Requiem
by Setrus
Summary: Blessed are they who stand before The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Dragon Age Inquisition retold like the stories before it.
1. Chapter 1

_Note; This story is a sequel on the stories "From Dirt", "From dirt 2" and "Chains of Blood", as such, some things are best summarised first: Alistair died killing the archdemon, Lynn Tabris, hero of Ferelden, is also dead, Leliana and Zevran are dead. Fenris, Carver, Bethany, Hawke's dog, Aveline and Anders are dead. Hawke romanced Merrill and sided with the mages at the end, Hawke and Varric never encountered Corypheus. Anora rules Ferelden. Chancellor Roderick has here been changed to Chancellor Rowyn for plot-reasons._

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"And Eileen spoke unto the masses; My heart is yours, my bread is yours, my life is yours. For all who walk in the sight of the Maker are one."

Marie, kneeling on a prayer rug, kept her hands clasped and her head down in prayer. Though not as devoted an Andrastian as some of the Chantry, even she had to admit to a feeling of otherworldliness in the temple of Sacred Ashes. It was hard to imagine that somewhere, deep within the temple forged out of the very mountain itself, the remains of their most holy prophet lay, a pinch of which would only be bestowed on the most worthy of pilgrims.

Divine Justinia had done it, of course she had, Marie knew none more dedicated and worthy of her holy vestments. Marie herself had never tried. She had heard tales of the trials, and those frightened her. More importantly, however, was the fear of _failing_, or rather, the repercussions. If Marie was ever to rise to the rank of Mother or Grand Cleric, she couldn't be known as one who was denied the Sacred Ashes. Ambition might not be a virtue in the chants, but Marie was lower nobility and so one born into it.

_Plus, I'd really like my own private room_...

Chastising herself, Marie shook her head and closed her eyes tighter, she must _not_ be found lost in thought, not within the great cathedral built just outside the temple, especially not when Divine Justinia herself was somewhere deep within the building. Marie had been specially chosen as Chancellor's Rowyn's assistant at the temple itself, and Justinia herself had taken her to the cathedral to wait for her as she dealt with some newly-arrived guests...Marie's good service was expected, and an _excellent_ one might be rewarded.

Racking her brain, Marie picked a chant at random. "Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder."

Justinia impressed Marie. Despite the Divine's age, she was up before most brothers and sisters, and she stayed up when most went to bed, and not for prayer or fasting, but constantly moving between meetings, tirelessly working, even _now_, in the middle of the night, she was striving for peace. If _anyone_ could calm the tempers of the templars and mages and make them come back under the fold during the negotiations, _she_ could. And anyone proving instrumental in this might find herself on the rise. _Maybe as a mother in chantry in Val Royeaux_? _Not Ferelden though, I hope, ugh, no prospects here_.

When the door at the far side of the cathedral clicked open, Marie jumped in fright and guilt at the unexpected sound. Then, annoyed, she turned her head.

The cathedral was magnificent in height and breadth, curving pillars holding up an immense vaulted ceiling painted a midnight blue and bedecked with glittering jewels to create the impression of a night sky. The floor, covered in mosaics depicting various scenes from the Chant, was a polished mirror shine and all along the walls coloured windows and banners of silk displayed the wealth and magnificence of the Chantry, a Chantry that had built the Cathedral in front of the temple in little more than two years. Just another achievement intended to awe.

Yet such finery was forgotten by Marie at the moment as she focused her gaze on the lone visitor boldly walking up the centre aisle. For a moment, she considered having the woman thrown out, but then she noticed the emblem stitched on the woman's velvet tunic and raised her hand, stopping the two silent templars – two of the few still loyal to the Divine – from leaving their posts at the door leading to the Divine's chamber.

Marie, quelling her annoyance, instead let herself consider the situation carefully. Only a moment was needed...then she was smiling, welcoming. _One of the Trevelyan's, Maker be praised, they're filthy rich, some say, and have so many cousins and contracts in the Chantry that they're said to know everything that goes on within it_. _Making a friend of one of __them_..._forget a becoming a Mother, I might become Grand Cleric right away if I play my cards right_.

The night was shaping up, and Marie smiled pleasantly as the woman now approached a little less boldly, perhaps realising she was interrupting something. The simple design of the heraldry stitched to her tunic, a golden key crossed with a silver sword over a flame, betrayed the woman as belonging to the main branch of the Trevelyans, the ones nigh on ruling Ostwick and certainly in charge of all minor branches of the family. It made Marie all the more happy to see her. _Maker be praised, your will is for me to get acquainted with her, surely_?

The woman wasn't a classical beauty in any shape or form. Tall, taller than even most men, she had to be standing at a full six feet by Marie's estimation. With her high cheekbones, narrow chin and oval face, she had some good features, but her lips were thin and her pale blue eyes had an eerie quality to them, not to mention that her already too tall body was more muscle and bone than curves. Worst was her blond hair, it had been shaved on both sides, leaving the top braided into a long tail reaching down to between the woman's shoulder-blades.

She looked more like one of the Qunari mercenaries hired as guards of the conclave than a noblewoman.

Marie, smiling at her, not about to reveal such thoughts, found her voice pleasant enough. Soft and melodic, surely trained, the noble stopped short of coming up next to the priestess. "I'm sorry, I'm not interrupting, am I?" The woman made no move to leave, nor to impose.

"Not at all, child, come, sit, the rug is big enough for two." Scooting to the side, Marie allowed room for the other woman. At twenty-five, Marie couldn't really be the mother of a woman that looked the same age, nor did she have the vestments to be able to call anyone 'child', but the Trevelyan didn't seem to mind as she with bowed head knelt down on the rug. "I'm Marie Nowara, servant of the Divine." Technically, everyone in the Chantry was, and Marie was more under chancellor Rowyn's charge than anyone, but it always helped to present oneself as important. "And you are, Miss Trevelyan?"

"Anna." The woman replied, bowing her head in greeting before turning her attention to the centre altar whereupon a massive golden statue of Andraste, eyes turned to the heavens, in her flowing dress stood surrounded by crimson flames made of bloodstone. "Forgive me, I did not mean to interrupt your prayers, I just had trouble sleeping."

"And so you came here?" Marie asked, intent on learning more about the woman.

"Would not you?" Anna replied, offering a smile before looking back to the image of Andraste. "Father sent me here on behalf of my family, and I have followed the Divine's instructions in making some members of the Circle and Templar order talk things through...it's worth reminding myself of _why_ I do it, no?"

"For the Maker?" Marie queried, intent on figuring the woman out before committing herself. "Or for peace?"

"Peace is a reward in itself, and all we _do_ is for the Maker's sake." Anna replied with conviction, the woman bowing her head, muttering a low prayer, a worry-line Marie hadn't even noticed disappearing from the woman's forehead at the words. "Maker willing, we will succeed."

Marie, shifting where she knelt, she'd been on her knees for far too long, smiled. "Ah, you think we'll succeed in making the mages see reason then?"

Anna's smile was polite...and all too revealing that Marie hadn't struck right. "I...hope that _all_ will see reason, yes. I have a large family, and many members are both within the Circle and within the Templar order, so I have very _personal_ interest in stopping the fighting. As father put it, it won't do to have family killing family." A little chuckle escaped the tall woman at that before she shrugged, gaze drifting away, back to Andraste's face. "It just seems like a waste, and the willingness of so many to waste their lives away in this pointless fight is horrifying..."

"I agree, the war has gone on for far too long." Marie agreed, sensing she was coming to an understanding of the woman._ Confide in me, please, I can become your friend_. "It's such a senseless war, with no rhyme or reason. How do you think the sides will be made to understand to come back under Chantry supervision?" If Marie could forward such ideas to the Divine, they would be equally hers and Anna's, and Marie could do with the Divine paying her more attention if she was to rise in rank.

"That's the thing, there _is_ sense to it. As I said, I have family on both sides, I know why both have done what they have." Anna sighed, bowing her head. "There is no making them anything, all that can be done is to alleviate grievances until both sides feel comfortable talking peace. There are too many long-standing issues to simply bring them back with some vague promises." Then the woman shook her head. "Forgive me, I did not come here to talk about the things keeping me up. Would you mind praying with me?"

Marie bit down a curse of annoyance, by not talking, how could she make a friend out of Anna, and praying was exceedingly _dull_ after a while. Of course, she would have to humour the woman if she was to stay in her good graces...

"Of course, will you lead? Or shall I?"_ Let me do it, and I'll pick a short Chant_.

To Marie's frustration, the woman's answer came with a prayer as with pale blue eyes glittering she fixed her gaze upon floor and clasped her hands together. "And so we burned. We raised nations, we waged wars." _Threnodies_? _Maker, no_..._of all the Canticles_... "We dreamed of false gods, great demons, who could cross the Veil into the waking world, turned our devotion upon them, and forgot you."

Mentally sighing, Marie lowered her head and fell in. "There was no word. For heaven or for earth, for sea or sky, all that existed was silence."

"Then the Voice of the Maker rang out, the first word." Anna continued, her whisper holding a melodic quality usually reserved for the Chantry choir's. "And His Word became all that might be." Under their knees, the ground suddenly shook, making Marie look up. _Earthquake_?_ Maker, hope it was but a little tremor_... Next to Marie, Anna continued, unperturbed. "Dream and idea, hope and fear, endless possibilities. And from it made his first born."

"And he..." Marie, again, found the world shake, _harder_ this time. "Maker, did you feel that?"

Anna smiled, not looking up. "It's in the Maker's hands, Marie." She, still smiling, continued as if nothing had happened. "And he said to them; in My image I forge you. To you I give dominion over all that exists."

Then, the floor cracked in front of them, a spike of dark green metal jutting out, eldritch energies coursing around it as the whole cathedral seemed to twist on its own axis. Marie, staring at it in horror alongside Anna, could only mutter. "By your will. May all things be done..." Then she was on her feet, screaming. "We have to get out of here!"

All around, there was now screaming, outside the cathedral, inside it. Green lights flickered around them, appearing and then disappearing like ghosts. By the door, one of the templars was screaming, twisting and turning as he clawed at his helmet, as if something had gotten inside it. The other, slumped onto one knee, was coughing, what seemed to be fire shooting out from his visor. _Impossible, completely impossible, it's a dream, it's all a horrible dream_...! Marie took a step back, trying to make sense of what she saw.

Ahead, the statue of Andraste herself was twisting into something else. Eyes once turned to the heavens were now melting, golden tears running down her cheeks even as the mouth twisted into a savage grin full of pointed teeth. _A dream, it must all be a dream_..._I fell asleep while praying, it can't be real, it __can't_! Marie coughed, the air suddenly full of black fumes, fumes that seemed to reach for her, reaching hands of darkness. So like the ones who'd come from under her bed when she was little, from the closet, from the blackness whenever it was bedtime...

Marie, pale as a ghost, took yet another step back, shaking her head in denial. _No, no, can't be happening, I'm older now, I'm not_..._I'm not_...

The dark hands, uncaring for her mute protests, began to claw at her.

Yet in the background, above the din of screams surrounding Marie, she could hear Anna's voice. Though strained by fear, the tone was clear and humble, singing the chant with an emotion Marie had never managed. "Then in the centre of heaven he called forth a city with towers of gold, streets with music for cobblestones, and banners which flew without wind."

Marie felt a great urge to join in, to fall on her knees and pray for her salvation, for rescue, for her sins...

But the hands were reaching at her, black as night, cold as ice, and Marie was only a little girl.

She ran, screaming.

Then she coughed, the scream drawing in the fumes, and the black hands with them.

She screamed louder, stumbled as she ran down the aisle, then fell onto all fours, clawing at her stomach as icy black hands tore at her from the inside, filling her with the darkness, with the cold. With nothing but the fear and the desire to escape it.

She saw, rather than felt, her skin smoulder and turn black...and shrieked in terror, her cry joining that of hundreds as they cast their eyes upwards.

Behind her, the song was but a whisper. "There, he dwelled, waiting to see the wonders His children would create..."

Above, Marie saw the Black City rise

Then she saw nothing more.

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Cassandra grimaced against the cold wind blowing against her, but unlike the men at her back, she held back her complaints. Her escort was all that Cullen could spare, half a dozen of the newly forged Inquisition's recruits Cullen thought could do well since they were some of the few who knew how to ride. Given their lack of training, however, Cassandra felt more like she was the one doing the escorting. Still, she understood the reasoning behind giving them some experience with official business.

The organisation was in its infancy, the brain child of Justinia and Cassandra following the Templar order forgetting its duties and annulling the Nevarran Accord. With the conclave in full swing, Cassandra hoped the order would come back to the Chantry and make the formation of the Inquisition needless. But if it didn't succeed, she fully agreed with Justinia's assessment, political and religious power was all well and good, but the Chantry _needed_ a military arm if it was to stop the chaos that had engulfed Thedas.

In fact, the organisation was so new that Cassandra in her satchel carried the newly written orders from Justinia making its formation legal. So far it was but a patchwork of recruits paid for and outfitted by the Chantry. With no name or purpose, the writ, however, would give them _both_. The number of recruits was staggering though, partly because no standard had been implemented on them and partly because the chaos following the war and the Chantry being the only ones seemingly willing to stop it had ensured a steady stream of people willing to learn how to handle weapons.

As such, the Chantry would soon have a large force at its disposal, if not a very skilled one.

_Maker willing, it will not have to come to pass though_.

Cassandra turned in her saddle, looking back at the Temple of Sacred Ashes which she had come from. Even at a distance, forged into the mountain, it was an impressive sight, making the much smaller Haven to which Cassandra was riding to look like a sty in comparison. Still, at least there were honest people down in Haven, with a minimum of fuss and politics, _unlike_ the temple with all its dignitaries...

Cassandra shot Justinia a brief prayer._ Andraste guide you in that nest of vipers and let us be successful in_-

The temple shattered.

Like a dropped glass of crystal, the magnificent structure simply shattered, walls and mountain both splitting into pieces that were sent hurtling in all directions. Within, a green light pulsed, then grew, shining right through the still falling debris and dust as if it was nothing.

The sound, the boom of the explosion, reached them a moment later in a rush of hot air that made the horses whine and rein back in shock. The recruits with Cassandra were like her though, silent, _staring_, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Before them, the green light pulsed faster, rising like a star, the mountain-top above it simply breaking apart before it, pieces the size of houses swirling around the growing light before fracturing into gravel, torn apart by powers magnitudes above anything Cassandra had ever witnessed. The pulsing light was by now sending out bolts of green lightning, and wherever they struck the ground, more green lights sparked, like flickering stars compared to the sun.

And the sun of green light itself continued to rise, touching the very heavens, making the clouds around it swirl and crackle with the promise of a storm.

And still, the light pulsed and _grew_.

Slowly, the shouts of her recruits reached Cassandra's ears.

"What shall we do!?"

"What happened!?"

"The Divine! Is she dead!?"

"We should go look!"

"Are you crazy!? We would die!"

"Coward!"

"We need the others!"

"We need a miracle, more like!"

They echoed Cassandra's own feelings all too well. There was a vice around her heart, squeezing it tight, drawing her to turn her horse around, towards whatever she was facing. _The Divine, no_..._maybe_..._maybe she's just hurt, buried beneath the debris_...

There was no denying her eyes though, the whole temple had been not only shattered, but _levelled_, nothing remained standing. _No one could have survived that_..._all those people_...

Cassandra felt the others go quiet, staring at her, waiting for orders. She ignored them, wrestling with her own thoughts as she was torn between sense and loyalty._ I should go get Cullen, ready the whole lot of them for whatever comes_.

_Something might have made it, __she__ could have_..._if I could only see it for myself, maybe_..._figure out_..._I_...

The devastation before her mutely killed all wishful thinking and desires though.

_Duty it is then_.

Snarling, Cassandra wheeled her horse around and urged it into a gallop down the narrow path. Down towards Cullen and those he commanded, down to get help.

_Justinia, I'm sorry_...

Guilt in her heart, Cassandra silently swore revenge upon whoever had caused the explosion.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for being sherlocked_.


	2. Chapter 2

Anna had moved on from the Canticle of Threnodies to Transfigurations, the words of the Chant holding her in an uncertain grip.

She was terrified.

Her eyes were closed shut, her hands clasped firmly together, her prayers loud, sung with all the force her lungs could manage.

"Many are those who wander in sin, despairing that they are lost forever..."

Yet, no matter how tightly she squeezed her eyes shut, she could still see the green light and mist around her, assaulting her senses in a way they shouldn't be able to. Pushing at the boundaries of her mind, like nails of ice being slowly driven into her temples.

"But the one who repents, who has faith, unshaken by the darkness of the world, and boasts not, nor gloats..."

No matter how firmly she clasped her hands together, she felt the vertigo, how she was falling, like the whole cathedral had been pulled off the ground and thrown into an abyss.

"...over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight in the Maker's laws and creations, she shall know the peace of the Maker's benediction."

No matter how loud she sung the Chant, she could still hear the screams, the cries of terror and agony mixing into a choir, storming around her on ethereal winds, seemingly coalescing somewhere above her.

"The light shall lead her safely through the paths of the world and into the next."

Anna knew people were dying all around her, or were already dead, it was hard to tell in a world that seemed to have been thrown into chaos. Even with her eyes closed and her mind grasping at the Chant, Anna knew there was something unnatural going on. Though no mage, she could feel its energies coursing around her like a river, feel it clinging to her, feel the corruption of something evil in it, like a fresh wind ruined by something dead and decaying.

"For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water."

Anna, like everyone around her, was afraid, frozen in terror. But _her_ fear was not for her life. Her old nanny's stories had been told to scare the children of the Trevelyans' to be careful and not get themselves hurt, the bad one always fell dead, cursed to fall into hell, never at the Maker's side, while the good hero lived on happily ever after with their love.

"As the moth sees light and goes towards flame, she should see fire and go towards the Light."

Anna hadn't learned to fear death from those stories, she had learned to fear for her _soul_.

So she prayed, harder and more urgently than ever, feeling that the world was coming to an end. For her soul, for those who no longer could pray for theirs. For forgiveness for all their sins, for the survival of those who remained, for and end for those who suffered. For her family, for the Divine, for mankind itself. _Maker, hear my cry, spare the innocent, spare the children, spare the mothers and fathers, if blood must be given, let this be it_...

"The Veil holds no uncertainty for her..."

_Please, save my soul_.

"And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker..."

Something, a _presence_, made Anna look up, to open her eyes.

The cathedral had been reduced to rubble. Above, all that existed seemed to be a green mist, a perverted sky, within which demons on leathery wings flew, roaring in delight. Far ahead, the black city, a legend only mages saw in their dreams, stood. Distant, inspiring and horrifying at the same time.

Yet all faded into the background against the one standing just before Anna.

Golden, glowing brighter than the sun, strips of her dress fluttering on ethereal winds, the woman standing over Anna reached down, offering her hand.

Anna's mouth worked, but all she could do was to continue the Chant. "...shall be her beacon and her shield..."

Anna, body tingling, soul overwhelmed, reached up to take the hand.

_I'm not worthy_.

"...her foundation and her sword."

She took the hand.

Then screamed.

Agony laced through her very being, a light no human could contain searing through her as she was flung backwards, hurled away from her saviour, falling.

And then she _kept_ falling.

Into the cold.

Then warmth.

Into darkness.

Then light.

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"Seeker."

"Seeker."

"My lady."

Too tired to really care about the respectful greetings, Cassandra nodded to each and marched on, her every muscle aching. How many times she had gone out to lead detachments into battle, she couldn't tell by now. It wasn't a battle anymore so much as combating a wildfire, teams simply moving in to contain the chaos before being relieved before they got too exhausted to fight on.

The fire was growing though, would soon be out of control, and showed no sign of stopping either.

Cassandra sat down heavily on the first open spot she found, a stump of a once mighty tree, cut down to make a barricade, she remembered. Though by now it had been burnt to ash by a rage demon...

Grunting, not about to let the bout of dizziness suddenly gripping her win, Cassandra drew her sword and begun to sharpen the notched edge. The next sally for her and her troops was in four hours, and she would be prepared by then. Of course, if the troops would be was another question, they were so tired...barely a few weeks ago they had been farmhands and workers, now they were fighting for their lives against an endless enemy...how much more could one demand of them before they broke?

There had been three days of fighting by now, an endless cycle of charges, ambushes, defences, skirmishers and massacres. Above, the Breach was still growing, spitting out demons that mindlessly threw themselves at whatever they found. Tireless, endless, fearless, the demons were everything humans weren't, and everyone knew by now that there would be no victory against them.

Haven, once a growing village from the many pilgrims visiting the temple of Sacred Ashes, was now more of a military camp, haphazardly put up by Inquisition recruits and their trainers. The civilians of the village, too afraid and shocked by the events to think of anything else to do, had turned from farmers and sellers of goods to servants and cooks, unofficially joining the improvised army and helping as best they could.

These people, the blood of an army that made it all work, were scurrying back and forth on errands and jobs that would never end, seemingly tireless to someone who had just entered the camp.

The soldiers, equipped haphazardly by an organisation not yet fully in place, were lounging about in their detachments. Though lazy-looking compared to those fussing over them, anyone who'd been out there knew they deserved the rest. In fact, it was a testament to their fatigue that most soldiers by now didn't bother taking their armour off, or wandered off from their detachment for long, knowing they would soon go back out into battle.

But all, soldiers and servants alike, shared one thing. A growing feeling of despair, of defeat.

Cassandra, despite hating weakness, could understand it all too well.

Josephine had sent out requests for aid against the Breach to all corners of Thedas, and nothing had come, they were seemingly alone, abandoned. Josephine had explained the situation to Cassandra, but it hadn't really helped. Yes, Ferelden was weakened by the blight and hit hard by the Templar and Mage war. Yes, Orlais was in the midst of a civil war. Yes, Nevarra was too busy guarding its borders. Yes, Tevinter was busy with the Qunari. Yes, Antiva and Rivain was too far away.

But the Breach was obviously trying to swallow the _world_!

Gritting her teeth, Cassandra drew her whetstone harder against her blade, taking her frustration out on it. A_nd now __we__ get requests for aid by local nobles because of some minor rifts on __their__ lands_..._have they __looked up__ recently_!? It was infuriating.

"Well, looks like you're in a cheerful mood." Looking up, Cassandra held back a growl at the sight of the dwarf before her. Varric, dressed in a red tunic leaving obscene amounts of chest bare, his huge crossbow slung over his shoulder, shrugged with that sarcastic smile he loved treating her to. "As usual."

"What do you want, dwarf?" Cassandra looked back down to her blade, hating herself for getting sucked into yet another of his 'conversations'. "If this is about you complaining about being 'conscripted', as you claimed to Cullen, I'll have to disappoint you. You're free to go, in fact, _please do_."

"And miss out on all the fun, Seeker? Perish the thought!" Varric snorted. "Besides, you need all the help you can get, so you might as well get used to me putting bolts into demons."

_Of all the people to actually grasp onto their shred of nobility_...

Gritting her teeth in frustration, Cassandra shrugged. "Do as you wish then, I'm not stopping you."

"Thank you, it's so good of you to give me _permission_."

"I _wasn't_..." Sighing, Cassandra looked up at Varric, finding a glimmer of hostility under the veneer of humour the dwarf put up. _Maybe I was too rough with him during our interrogation_._ If so, I should apologise_. Cassandra wasn't sure though, and at the moment she doubted Varric cared for whatever she said. "_Fine_, you're allowed to kill demons, go do it with my blessing."

Varric opened his mouth, no doubt another sarcastic retort on his lips – it seemed he had nothing else to do when he wasn't fighting, perhaps his coping mechanism for all Cassandra knew – when another voice cut in. "Fighting again? My my, if you two keep this up, people will start to talk."

Cassandra snorted in disgust at the thought, and Varric wasn't far off with his grimace as he replied. "Ah, the elf apostate telling a joke, I should commemorate it with a song."

Cassandra, shaking her head at the madness of the two men before her, quickly replied. "Please don't sing." 

Solas, clad in patched tunic and trousers, the only thing keeping the cold out a coat of fennec-fur, arched an eyebrow at the dwarf as he leant on his staff, seemingly oblivious to the sideways glances he was getting by all who passed. "I do have humour, master Tethras, but there is a time and place for it."

"Ah, of course. Still, it was a good one, I admit, Chuckles." The dwarf offered a crooked smile. "Anyway, what brings you to this neck of the woods? Shouldn't you be busy humming at a fade rift somewhere or do that weird fade-walk thing you talk of or...something?"

"My studies of the rifts are right now on hold, as you're well aware, master Tethras." Solas replied evenly, as if it was any other subject, rather than that which was threatening to destroy them. _How do you even study them_?_ Who learns such a skill_? Thin like all elves, the man's lack of hair and intelligent blue eyes made him look older than he perhaps was. And despite not being any taller than most elves, he somehow seemed to be, the man standing straighter and prouder than any other Cassandra had met...she wasn't sure she trusted the apostate, nor he her, as he had told her. Yet so far, despite his odd appearance and curious abilities, the man had proven a staunch ally, something Cassandra could respect. "As for walking the fade, I currently don't sleep much, other things keep my attention."

"Ah, of course, Cassandra's latest victim." Varric summarised, grinning.

"She is not a _victim_, she's a _prisoner_ to be _interrogated_." Cassandra corrected, glowering at the dwarf who brazenly glared back.

Cassandra still didn't know much of the woman, according to reports by those who found her, she'd fallen out of a minor rift, like the fade itself had spit her out. Her clothes, torn and burnt, had still born her heraldry though, and Josephine had quickly identified the woman as Anna Trevelyan, one of many attending the conclave. She hadn't turned out to be a possessed demon, despite the strange glowing mark on her hand, but that meant that the fade had for some reason let her go while all others have died. Even the Divine was gone, yet this woman somehow survived? It was suspicious beyond words.

_But why would a Trevelyan try to assassinate the Divine_?_ And in such a fashion_?_ I hear they have relations in Tevinter, but even __they__ wouldn't want this, would they_?

None of it made sense, and the unconscious woman had so far been of no help, making Cassandra shake her head. "_If_ she wakes up, she will have a chance to defend herself, just like anyone else." 

"Ah, yes, of course." Varric tapped his chin. "Before or _after_ you stab her in the book though?"

"That was _my_ book, dwarf." _Bloody shame too, was a good book_..._not telling Varric that though_. Cassandra grunted, tired of the dwarf going on and on about his wounded pride. "Stop moaning."

"The book was in _my_ lap though, I think I have every right to complain." Varric retorted, as he always did.

Cassandra sighed, rubbing her temple. "I do not have time with this again, Varric. There are more important things at stake here than whether or not you like my interrogation techniques." She shot a tired look up at what remained of the mountain ahead, the breach above it pulsing with a life of its own, a tiny stream of its light still reaching the ground, as if anchored into it, unable to take flight further. "If you hadn't noticed, we're facing a crisis that might be the end of the world here."

"Yes, and so far we're doing _such_ a good job at fixing that." Varric chuckled. "I think I've killed the same demon four times now. Of course, it keeps coming back...one of these days I'll be out of bolts, as you will be out of soldiers, no doubt."

"I'm _aware_ that we're not able to defeat this breach the way we are fighting." Cassandra glowered, finding no amusement in Varric's little jab, good men and women had fallen in the battle so far, and more would fall in the days to come. "This is a holding action until we can find a way to seal it, and you _know_ that."

"I...suppose." Varric finally conceded. The dwarf wasn't as much a fool as he played, Cassandra knew it. He was intelligent enough to see things as they were...yet infuriatingly enough, that didn't stop him from taking his shots at her whenever he could.

"Okay then, if you two are finished, may I diverge the topic to the reason I'm here?" Solas asked, giving Varric a look before he turned his gaze to Cassandra. "The mark is now as stable as I could make it, and she's about to wake up."

"What!?" Cassandra leapt to her feet, eyes wide. "Why didn't you tell me already!?"

"You were in a conversation." Solas calmly replied, shrugging. "There's no rush, it'll take another hour at least before she's fully awake.."

Cursing loudly, Cassandra sheathed her blade, turned and ran, she had to find the left hand of the Divine, then ready the interrogation!

Behind her, she heard Solas sigh. "Humans..."

8

8

8

Warmth, light, it was all around her.

Peace, calm, serenity.

Fading, all fading.

Replaced by darkness, cold, and a growing sense of something being wrong.

Her knees ached.

There was a chill in the air.

Something was wrong.

_Aren't I dead_?

Anna let loose a low moan, her whole body was aching from...she wasn't sure what.

It was real though.

Slowly, carefully, _fearfully_, she opened her eyes, head tilting left and right to try and make sense of things.

She wasn't in her room back at the conclave, nor was she in the cathedral or anywhere familiar. The room was bare, cold stone of a square cell, most of it shrouded in darkness. She herself was bathed in light from a hole in the ceiling though. Looking up, Anna caught a glimpse of dark clouds and a pale sun...and lowered her head with a wince, eyes stinging from the sight. That made her look down though, at the cold slab of stone she was kneeling on, and at the iron shackles holding her wrists, attached to a chain stuck to the stone beneath. _What in the_...? Anna's eyes widened, shocked and confused.

"Who are you? Tell me your name."

Looking up, Anna spotted a woman's shape moving in the shadows, circling her like a cat did its prey.

Anna momentarily drew a blank, her mind trying to process it all. "I...A-Anna, Anna Trevelyan."

"Father? Mother? What do they do?"

"I...Morgan Trevelyan and Lia Trevelyan. Father runs our businesses and mother manages our connections..." Anna swallowed, confused and not a little scared as the dark shadow moved too far to her right to follow.

The cold voice, full of anger, lashed at her from behind. "What were you doing at the conclave?"

_Conclave_..._the_ _conclave_ _that_... Anna shrugged it off, it was a dream, a bad dream, it _had_ to be. "I was sent by father, I was to help Divine Justinia create peace. I've been dealing with Templar captains and Circle enchanters since then, they're very stubborn but...what's going on? I don't understand, why am I shackled? My father will not-"

"Your father might be the one who gave the order, for all I know." There was a clatter as the shadow suddenly marched into the light, coming up behind Anna, a cold gauntlet gripped her hair, pulling her head back as the woman's voice hissed into her ear. "He might have been the one who told you to _destroy_ the conclave!"

"Destroy? But it's..." Anna's protest died on her lips, eyes widening, _remembering_. "It's...Maker have mercy, it _is_ destroyed, isn't it?"

"Yes." The hand in Anna's hair roughly let her go, the owner circling Anna until she could get a good look at the other woman. Arms crossed over her chest, the dark-haired woman before Anna was all iron and purpose, the scar across her left cheek that of a warrior's, the grey eyes boring into her target like a hawk's. There was anger in her gaze, anger and a blazing need for answers. "Destroyed in an explosion. Why did you do it?"

"Me!?" Anna gasped in horror. "I would _never_ do such a thing to so many, nor to the most holy Justinia!"

The woman before her took a step forward, hand shooting down to draw her sword. "Then tell me what happened!"

"I...I..." Anna hesitated, raking her memories as she stared at the tip of the sword, a sword still marked by blows from combat, she noted. Yet for all her struggles, there was nothing there, a big _blank_ in her memories. "I don't remember..." All except one thing. "...except...a woman."

Before her, the woman frowned. "A woman? What woman?"

"Sh-she was glowing...like the sun. All around me, there was death and destruction, but she reached down for me...I took her hand and she...saved me?" It was so hazy, Anna couldn't remember properly, but thinking about it...it made her skin shiver, something deep inside her feeling..._warm_.

_She__ saved me_.

The woman before her hesitated, then lowered her blade, a look of confusion on her face, she too no doubt thinking the same thing as Anna.

_Andraste's mercy_...

Then a second shadow detached from the wall. This one was a man, dressed in a long flowing robe concealing his body, all Anna could tell was that he was of middling height, stooped, and that his face was as nondescript as his neutral voice. His face, though without a single wrinkle, somehow spoke of age. His hair, carefully combed back, was a solid grey. His eyes, dark blue, seemed far more wry than the situation merited. His voice, despite being polite, had a clipped quality to it. "You took her hand? Which hand?"

Shackled as she was, Anna could do little but turn her wrists upwards and nod towards her left hand...that suddenly crackled with green energies. "Maker's breath!" Anna recoiled, trying to flee from the display of magic, only to find herself tumbling to the floor as the chain hooking her to the floor pulled her onto her side. "Get it off! Get it off now! I'm no mage! I shouldn't have that! Get it off!"

"We can't." The man retorted. "And maybe we shouldn't, if the mark came from you..." He drifted off, letting the rest go unsaid.

Anna, despite her horror, calmed at those words. "Magic exists to serve man..." She felt her shoulders slump.

"...and never to rule over him." The woman finished, taking a step forward. "However, I don't think this is magic, not in the regular sense, anyway. This is...different."

"And potentially our saving grace." The man nodded. "Cassandra, unshackle our guest, let her see the Breach for herself. I need to go confer with our dear Chancellor." Without showing a hint of hurry, the man then turned and opened the door to the chamber, flooding it with light as the snowy outdoors lay just beyond it.

"Right." Nodding to herself, the woman approached, sword sheathed as she reached for the keys at her belt. "Don't try anything, I'm a good fighter and there are guards all over this place."

"I won't...Cassandra, was it?" Anna blinked, still overwhelmed by all that had happened, and _definitely_ _not_ about to look at her hand again. Instead she focused on the woman's features as she struggled with the apparently old lock holding Anna prisoner. "Wait...Cassandra _Pentaghast_? The woman who at Val Royeaux-"

"Yes, that's the one." Cassandra interrupted with a weary sigh. "Please don't tell me you're a fan due to those ludicrous stories?"

"Err..."

"Right, of course you are." Sighing, the woman got Anna's shackles off. "Maybe you should focus more on your _own_ fate rather than some exaggerated tales?"

"I..." Anna swallowed, glancing down at her left hand, only to shirk away when it began to throb, a crackle of green energy escaping it. "I'm not sure I want to." Noting the disapproving look the other woman shot her, Anna grimaced, then drew a deep breath. "What...what _did_ happen? I barely remember my own fate, but what of the others? What's a breach?"

Cassandra's disapproving frown turned into a weary sigh. "I'll show you, come on." Not waiting for Anna to agree, the woman hoisted her to her feet and pulled her with her. Outside it was cold and _full_ of people. Anna, realising she was dressed in nothing but a filthy tunic, felt herself flush before realising most were glaring _at_ her, rather than staring at her exposed skin. Even as she watched, a man working the smith stopped to glower and spit in her direction. _Why is everyone_..._oh_ _right, they think I_..._Maker_...

Whimpering, Anna wanted nothing but to sink into the ground and disappear from so many glares.

But then Cassandra gripped her neck, turning her gaze skywards, the woman's tone sombre. "And it's not _a_ breach, though there are many minor rifts out there, but _the_ Breach."

Anna's eyes widened, trying to make sense of the impossible.

The glowing orb of green light was challenging the very heavens, arcs of lightning surrounding it, pieces of the shattered mountain it was hovering over orbiting it, seemingly weightless.

It was impossible.

Yet there it was, a glowing effigy to something dark and evil.

Anna's eyes slowly narrowed.

To the slaughter of hundreds, of the death of the most holy Divine Justinia.

Behind her, Cassandra's voice simply added to the growing sense of purpose. "It's growing with each passing day, letting in demons, creating more rifts in the veil, and if we do not stop it, it might swallow the world completely."

Before Anna, she could almost see the glowing woman, see the hand reaching out...see Andraste choosing to save her.

"When do we leave?"

"Leave? I beg your pardon?" Cassandra asked, confused.

Turning, Anna straightened, taller than Cassandra by half a head, she found herself looking down at the woman with a surprising feeling of purpose. "Yes, when do we leave for the Breach? I assume you have a plan for tackling it? It _must_ be destroyed." _Andraste wills it_.

"I..._yes_." Cassandra blinked, looking unsure. "I thought I would have to convince you, what with how your mark seems tied to the breach, but if you're _volunteering_..."

"Still surprised others are willing to help, Seeker?" A new voice spoke up, a curious-looking elf approaching, friendly smile on his lips. "One does not have to be of the Chantry to understand the danger of the glowing hole in the sky." He then turned his gaze to Anna, intelligent eyes flicking over her as if he was studying a book rather than a woman. "You look better, I'm glad to see you on your feet."

"That's elven for 'I healed you, you're welcome', if you didn't catch that." A dwarf, no beard but that on his broad chest, spoke up, the man appearing from around the corner to Anna's cell. The man, smirking, spread his arms wide in welcome. "And damn, seems you're not stabbed in the book, I owe Solas a sovereign."

"Stabbed in the what?" Anna repeated, making Cassandra groan.

"I'm sure you'll be able to afford it." The elf retorted, then offered Anna a reassuring smile. "And yes, I did heal you, though admittedly, if we do not close the breach, the mark on your hand will make my efforts somewhat...futile."

"I..." Anna regarded the elf with confusion. He was not Dalish with their aggressive posture and defiant attitude that made them such a tricky people to deal with. Nor was he a city elf or servant. He looked her right in the eyes, unflinching, without anger or fear, as if they were _equals_. Though thinking herself enlightened among most nobility, Anna found the reality of such a behaviour surprising and even a bit unnerving. Still, she offered a pale smile. "...thank you."

Solas merely bowed his head in acknowledgement, then turned his attention to Cassandra. "Seeker, maybe we should prepare to move out then, if it's to your pleasure? Though perhaps we should first dress your prisoner?"

Anna flushed, but a single glance up to the Breach in the sky destroyed all embarrassment as she nodded. "Agreed." Turning her head, she caught sight of the first servant passing. "_You_." The elven woman, all skin and bone, jumped in fright, then stared at Anna with wide eyes. "Take me to the armoury."

The elf hesitated, then turned a questioning look to a sighing Cassandra.

"Go ahead...we might need her blade."

Anna, her hand throbbing with pain but her mind full of the memory of a golden hand reaching out for her, followed the elf without hesitation.

Behind her, the dwarf chuckled. "So now we _arm_ our prisoners? Seeker, did I make you soft?"

Again, Cassandra sighed.

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the squeals of delight_.


	3. Chapter 3

"You, you and you." Ahead, Cassandra was marching, pointing at a trio of shivering and wide-eyed elves that had rushed to her. "Run to the outposts, tell the sergeants there to march their troops to Cullen, double time."

"Yes, Ser!" The elves replied in unison, then turned and ran up the snowy mountain and towards the breach with surprising speed. Cassandra threw them a last glance, then turned to one of her captains, the man walking with a slight limp as he kept nodding to whatever Cassandra was muttering to him.

Anna watched with a hint of annoyance. Back home in Ostwick she had accompanied father on many a small campaign to clear out troublesome bandits and Tal-Vashoth that plagued the Free Marches since the last Exalted March. There had even been that one time where they'd gotten to hunt some darkspawn! She had been in the council, she'd been consulted, she had even led troops, all the way of preparing her for a dominating position in her community, or more likely within the templars, would her father have his way.

Yet here she was regaled to being a spectator. Sure, as her position befitted, she was at the head of the column, but not in the council, not even in a position to lead. Her armour was a simple chain mail shirt that was too short for her liking, not the suit of plate she was used to back home. Her sword was a serviceable claymore, not a longsword, and the extra weight was bad enough without the point of balance being too far towards the tip for her liking. Of course, being armed at all was a a blessing, given that she was supposedly a prisoner...

A prisoner for killing hundreds.

And the Divine.

And for having a mark on her hand that was like a poisoned scar in her palm.

Anna's attempt at distracting herself collapsed like a house of cards. Suddenly she felt the chill of the air again, contrasting sharply with the burning pain in the hand she refused to look at that seemed to grow with each passing breath. Suddenly she felt the hostile looks from the soldiers walking around them, many less equipped than she was. Suddenly she was all too young for the accusations levelled against her, for the prospect of dying with whatever was in her flesh, for the idea of doing anything against the great hole up in the sky...

The world, dark, harsh, unforgiving, bore down on her like an anvil.

"You okay, kid?" Anna flinched at the words, looking to her side and with horror noticing the dwarf, calling himself Varric, giving her a sympathetic smile.

For a moment, Anna was lost for words. That was all the time a soldier marching further of needed. "No talking to the prisoner."

The dwarf cracked his neck, then shot the soldier an amused look. "Well I'm a prisoner too, no? So aren't prisoners allowed to talk to one another?"

The soldier blinked, then shook his head. "What? But you're...you're armed and fighting the demons and-"

"And so is she." Varric interrupted, smirking at the way he made the soldier's face draw a blank. "I know, it's a lot to take in, try not to hurt yourself." Around them, a few soldiers chuckled, making their comrade look away and snort in annoyance. The situation dealt with, the dwarf now turned his gaze back to Anna. "As I was saying...you okay? Been a lot to take in, I wager."

Having recovered from her initial surprise, Anna held her head high. "I'm a Trevelyan, modest in temper, bold in deed is our motto, I'll honour it."

"Ah, trying to keep your chin up, being noble and all that, I get it, I get it..." Varric said, tone softer and more understanding than Anna would have preferred. Then, after but a moment's pause, he added. "It's okay to be scared though."

"I'm not..." Anna held back her protest, noting how shaky her voice was, and that her knees were like water, and that her eyes were suddenly brimming with unshed tears. Biting down her protest, Anna looked away and balled her hands into fists. A deep breath, and she tried again. "I'm not scared, I...I know what I'm doing, it'll be okay, Solas says we stop this breach..." _If we can_."...and everything will be okay." _Possibly_. "The mark will stop spreading." _Hopefully_. "And everything will be okay." _Besides the trial and political fallout, of course_. "Just need to do this trip..." _And kill any demons in the way_. "...and it'll be okay."

Silence followed Anna's reply

_Bloody Solas, would it have hurt to lie a little about my chances_?

"Yeah...you just said 'okay' like four times, so I'm going to assume it's not." Varric grunted, inching closer as they walked. _Bloody dwarf too_. "But hey, look at the bright side." Blinking, Anna looked down at him as if he'd gone mad, what she found, was a winning smile. "You recently escaped the fade, as in _physically_ entering it. Now, I might not be the most religious of sorts, but you think you survived something like _that_ only to die now?" The dwarf snorted in amusement. "Please."

"Thank you...Varric." Anna smiled. In the back of her mind, she could almost feel the warm presence of her rescuer, the holy light upon her face...her smiled widened. "You're right. Or...partly so, I don't fear death, but out of the fade...my soul should be safe."

Behind her, Solas muttered something, but was lost in the sound of the soldier Varric had rebuffed growling in anger. "Yeah right, you murdered the Divine, if there's any justice, the closing of the Breach will kill you."

Varric sighed and turned to answer, but Anna was faster, her hand on the dwarf's shoulder as she turned to regard the man. He was dressed in nothing but a padded jacket, still stained with soot and blood, the glaive in his hands notched with use. More tellingly, his eyes were distraught, that of a man in grieving. Anna couldn't be angry at the sight of him, no matter what he had said, instead, her reply turned soft. "Let the blade pass through the flesh, let my blood touch the ground, let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice..." Anna smiled. "If my death will wash away any dishonour and suspicion guilt, if it'll end this Breach, I will gladly go to it."

Around them, men and women shifted, uneasy even as the target for the words narrowed his eyes. "Di-did you just have the gall to quote the Chant at me? The world is coming at an end!"

"The deep dark before dawns' first light seems eternal, but know that the sun always rises." Anna's smile endured, the warmth of Andraste herself seemingly lingering in her. "This is not the end, she would not have it be so."

The man opened his mouth to answer, then glanced around and closed it, the grief in his eyes turning into confusion as he turned to stare at his feet. The other soldiers who had heard also looked uncertain, a woman among them swallowing before speaking up. "She...? We heard...the scouts reported that when you came out of the breach...behind you...I...ah..." The words wouldn't come, the woman and all around her looking uncomfortable at the notion.

Anna looked away, frowning. The memory was already so distant, elusive, like a snake it slithered around in her mind, making her unable to grasp hold of it. Still, she remembered some. "She took my hand..." It was but a whisper from her lips as she looked down at her left hand once more, not in fear, but in wonder. _What __is__ this_? The green light, though painful, eerie, unnatural and painful, held an undeniable power, a power given to her... _But for what_?

Around her men and women whispered. Confused, afraid, in awe.

"Does it hurt?" Anna turned her head, expecting another soldier, only to find herself confronted by an inquisitive-looking Solas, the elf casually using his staff to help him up the mountain as he kept his gaze on Anna's hand, his gaze holding a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"Yes, it's like a burn, but...inside? It's throbbing, like very slowly and...and it feels like it's slowly growing, pushing deeper into my arm." Anna swallowed, nervousness returning tenfold as she stared, almost able to _see_ the mark pushing into her veins. "Like some worm, crawling, digging..." Anna winced, shivering.

More curious than anything else, Solas' reply was calm. "Growing with each throb, no?" A pause, his hand coming to grab her elbow. "And each one is like a pulse? Look at the Breach, is it in sync with it? The throbbing pain and the pulses of the Breach?"

Anna looked up. The Breach was larger now, growing, _pulsing_, slowly...Anna blinked at the sight. "It...is? Yes, it _is_." It was a terrifying sight, the Breach, terrifying...and joint with her mark, pulsing alongside with it...it wasn't as alien as it appeared. "You're right."

"Excellent, then the plan might just work." Solas let go, smiling contently. "My theory is correct, so far." He nodded, gaze turning upwards. "Ah, and we're here then, the front-line, as it were."

Looking up, Anna saw the defences and found her eyes widen.

The position ahead was wedged between a collapsed windmill and the side of the mountain, leaving a hundred foot wide gap where ditches had been dug, the hard ground and snow piled up at the back, creating a height against anyone approaching from the breach to climb. A low palisade of stakes had been erected at the top, slanting slightly forward, as if intending to impale any who approached. Some of the palisade was in poor repair by now though, parts seemingly having been incinerated, others ripped out, making it look more like the a ruined line of teeth than a proper defence.

Troops were by the palisade, men and women in gambesons, a few suits of leather and the odd bit of chain mail. Most stood at the front kneeling or standing, crossbows and bows ready as they warily kept watch. Yet more stood behind them, a mix of spears, shields, glaives, halberds and even the odd scythe in their hands. All weapons and armour looked worn and recently used, as did those holding them. Wounds, ashen faces, burns, hollow eyes and exhausted arms, it was all too obvious to even the casual observer.

It was an army on its last legs.

In the centre, under the cover offered by a broken blade of what had once been windmill's sails, two men and a woman stood leaning over a rickety-looking table. One of the men was the one from Anna's cell, stooped, grey hair yet smooth face and clever eyes, he had already noticed the approaching force, and seemed to watch them as much as the other two. Silent, but hearing and seeing everything.

It put Anna on even more of an edge than she already was.

The other two were strangers. The man's blond hair was streaked with sweat and ash, a scar across his lip and lines of worry creasing his forehead. He was practically as tall as Anna, made even more so by his straight posture, his brown eyes were hard and the plate armour he wore dented with use.

He looked like the honourable sort, much to Anna's relief.

The third person was a woman in Chantry robes, though her hat was nowhere to be found, making her curly red hair tug and wave in the air. Her eyes were a sharp green and her face beautifully shaped, the kind Anna had always dreamed of having when she was little, and with an additional sprinkle of freckles as well. She was also ruining it all with an angry grimace on her face as her words caught in the wind. "Commander, this is the last time I'm saying this, pull back and report back to Val Royeaux, this position is hopeless and the Chantry does _not_ need its new army destroyed in a hopeless cause."

"Chancellor Rowyn, _I_ decide whether a military situation is hopeless or not, not you." The man in armour retorted, stretching to his full height as he glared at the woman. "And I say we _advance_, the orders have already been given, the troops are already gathering."

"It's suicide! You can't sacrifice good soldiers for the sake of your _vanity_."

"Say that again and I'll _personally_ hurl you off this mountain." The man evenly replied, making Anna gasp in horror. Though Commander seemed unperturbed by having threatened a woman of the cloth like that. "I'm fully aware of the lives in my charge, _my lady_."

The woman, to her credit, only stood straighter, snarling in anger. The grey-haired man was the one to speak though, looking past the two arguing for the approaching group. "Seems the decision is made then, and just in time, our secret weapon is here."

The two others turned, the woman's green eyes widening in horror at the sight of Anna approaching. "What's the meaning of this!? She's armed and armoured! _Guards_, _arrest_ _her_!" Behind her, two soldiers levelled their halberds and advanced, only to hesitate when Cassandra stepped in their path, a hand on the pommel to her sword.

A second later the man in armour spoke, forehead creasing in an angry frown. "Ignore that, you two." He turned his frown to the woman only when the two soldiers stepped back. "And you, stop trying to order _my_ soldiers around."

For a moment, the woman seemed lost for words, then she leant towards him, eyes flashing. "Soldiers the _Chantry_ paid for, soldiers the _Chantry_ equipped. Same goes for you, Commander Cullen! All you are you are because of us! You do as we say!"

"My command was given by Justinia herself, not some glorified clerk." The man snorted. "And at the moment, I answer only to the left and right hand of the Divine." He looked to the grey-haired man, then to Cassandra, eyebrows arched, palms raised up as he shot a nod towards Anna. "Well? Do I arrest this woman?"

Cassandra was the first to shake her head. "No, we need her to seal the Breach. If she's alive after that, we'll see what to do with her."

"Seconded." The grey-haired man nodded, smirking at the way the woman in red her turned red. "Chancellor Rowyn, your protest is noted, but you'll find that your advice is not required at this time."

Rowyn, red curls whipping in the wind, took a step back from them, shaking her head. "This...this is an outrage. You go against the Chantry, you let a condemned murderer of the Divine go free among you..." Her eyes flashed, angry, but also, suddenly, calculating. "I'll see you burn for this."

"Condemned?" Varric echoed, chuckling. "Has there already been a trial that I missed? Is this common, Seeker? Or do I just have poor luck?"

Making a disgusted noise, Cassandra ignored the dwarf in favour of glaring back at Rowyn. "We are not about to let you act like a fool, or simply use a scapegoat for this disaster, nor will we let you stop our _best_ chance of stopping the Breach from growing." Squaring her shoulders, Cassandra raised her chin. "This is the right thing to do, what Justinia would want us to do, you will not stop it."

A moment's pause, and then Rowyn glared past Cassandra and at the soldiers around them. "Then you share her fate, you are _all_ condemned. The Inquisition has gone rogue, away from the Maker's light and the Chantry's will."

All around, people gaped in horror and fright. Anna herself took a step back, the thought of being excommunicated horrifying.

Only Cassandra and the grey-haired man seemed unworried, the former growling back. "No, just _your_ will."

"H-hold on here..." Anna stepped forward before she realised she'd spoken. Suddenly, everyone was staring, making her lick her lips. "Look, no one here is anything but a devoted Andrastian, and no more should suffer for what's already a cataclysmic event. If...depending on what happens at the Breach, once it's over...I'll come with you, Chancellor Rowyn. I'll face your charges, and the Maker will be my witness of my innocence."

A mutter passed through the ranks at that, but Rowyn looked unimpressed. "We'll see about that..." A click of her tongue, and servants rushed to bring her horse as she moved to walk away. "I'll expect a report later, Commander, and if it's not to my liking..."

"We'll get a sternly written letter, I'm aware." The man retorted with a snort, watching the woman go with a hint of relief. Once out of earshot, he shook his head and sighed. "What a mess, eh, Baldwin?"

"Indeed, what happens after this will be almost as interesting as reaching the Breach itself." The grey haired man replied, amused.

"I doubt that, nothing can really top a battle with a horde of demons." Cullen replied with a shrug, then turned his gaze over to Anna, offering a curt bow of his head. "My apologies, we've not been introduced. You are Anna Trevelyan, I believe? I'm commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces."

"Thank you, I'm aware you didn't need to greet me at all considering the...situation." Anna grimaced but took a step forward, offering a hand.

It was a pleasant surprise to find the commander actually take it and offer a firm but curt handshake even as the man behind him, Baldwin, and apparently left hand of the Divine, spoke up "Oh I've explained it best I can, you're not in as much trouble as you might think, at least not by us. Survival doesn't automatically mean guilt, after all."

"Could have fooled me..." Varric muttered in the background, making Cassandra hiss in annoyance.

Ignoring whatever those two were on about, Anna kept her focus on the two men. "I was not aware there _was_ an Inquisition. I'd heard rumours among those in Justinia's circle but..." She looked uncertain, she'd stumbled through her history-lessons after all, and the Inquisition was a group with a...mixed heritage.

"It was Justinia's doing. And yes, we're aware of the weight of using such a name, it's why she chose it." Baldwin replied, amused as he eyed Anna, seemingly able to read her like a book. "It's not quite official yet, was meant to stand as a counterweight to the mages and templars going rogue. With some still loyal templars and a lot of recruits, the idea was to slowly build up a more militarised force to keep the 'rebellions' in check."

"Of course, that's not our greatest concern anymore." Cullen dryly noted, a haunted look passing his eyes. "A lot of the recruits are dead or maimed by now, and we're fighting demons, not men." He grimaced, then looked back up at Anna, eyes steady. "If it stops the breach though, it's worth it. I already know Solas' plan, and I've been given to understand that you've volunteered to help us?" He nodded, though he didn't smile. "Thank you."

"I'm sure you'd have found a way if she hadn't. Maybe the Seeker would have grabbed her by the ankles and waved her at the Breach like a wand?" Varric chuckled, then spoke up before a grim-faced Cassandra could reply. "Anyway, weren't we going somewhere? Up the mountain, or rather, what's left of it?"

"Quite right." Cullen nodded, glanced down at the table where a ragged piece leather was held in place by three daggers, then sighed. "Not much to it, we have to take the pass we took last time. They'll be more demons there now, last time we were lucky to get out." He turned his gaze to Anna, or rather, past her. "It was a great risk for you to study it...are you _certain_ this will work?"

Solas, having been silent until now, took a step forward, showing not a hint of uncertainty. "Yes, or as certain as anyone can be about anything." Noting Cullen's doubting expression, he arched an eyebrow. "Your alternative is to stay here and be worn down one soldier at a time, Commander."

"That it is." The man nodded, turned towards the Breach and drew his sword, his orders ringing out. "Form up! Templars at the front, skirmishers to the centre, we keep the enemy back, we keep the ranks tight and we keep _advancing_! Soldiers, stand to!"

A ragged shout of agreement echoed across the ranks, more and more troops jogging up to join them.

Anna, drawing her sword, felt her pulse quicken.

Cassandra was the first over the palisade, meanwhile Cullen moved to stand atop it, waving his sword forward. "For the Divine, _advance_!"

The shout among the soldiers turned into a roar, the whole force suddenly marching forward as someone at the back began to beat a drum in a steady rhythm.

Anna, swept along, jumped over the palisade and gasped even before she hit the ground at what lay before her.

"Yep." Varric muttered, landing beside her. "That's a lot of demons..."

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for becoming a shieldmaiden_


	4. Chapter 4

Anna had read of demons, heard the stories about them, but she had never been able to imagine what was coming up against them.

Like a wave of dark water, the creatures hurtling at them were a motley black and brown, their hunched shapes not standing on legs so much as hovering in the air on a stream of ash. Their heads, hooded in mouldy leaves, had no faces, only a single baleful purple eye. Their torsos, wreathed in rags, were broad, from which two arms, they too in rags, reached out in mindless need.

"Shades! Ready up!" At the head, Cullen raised his sword, Cassandra on his left following suit. On their left and right, a little more than a dozen men and women did the same. These were not dressed like the rest of the troops, but wore heavy plate armour emblazoned with the burning sword of Andraste. _Templars_. "Now!"

Anna had many cousins in the Templar order, and they had come to various celebrations back home. One had even tried to demonstrate his 'powers'...which had been pointless, no one had felt a thing and just found it silly. Now, she _did_ feel it though, it was like her hand had been dipped into a bucket of ice, painful, then numbing, almost relaxing against the pain of her mark. Gasping more in shock than pain, she watched the wave of creatures slow, as if they were suddenly moving through water rather than air.

"Archers!" A volley of arrows and crossbow bolts hurtled through the air, slamming into the creatures. Most simply got stuck in the torsos, seemingly not bothering the creatures, others hissed through the ash holding them upright or simply missed, yet some found the creatures' heads, making the creatures hiss and recoil before exploding into a fine black powder. "Form up and advance!"

Recruits with spears and pole arms were streaming to the templars at the front, forming defensive rings around the elite warriors as the still slowed shades approached.

Spears jabbed out. Some killed, others struck the bodies of the shades, holding them back as halberds and glaives descended on their heads, disintegrating the creatures. The advance was slow, but unmistakable, the recruits moving with practised efficiency and grim determination as the wall of steel and faith chewed through the onslaught of mindless creatures.

Anna, sword at the ready, gritted her teeth_._ _I should be out there too, Andraste chose me, I shouldn't linger back in safety while others_... "Terror!" _Huh_? Whatever the warning meant, it made the troops within the formation turn and look around in confusion. Then, in a cascade of snow and blood, a demon appeared in the midsts of a troop of archers, a poor man held aloft it, claws deep in his torso. The monster, green, tall and long-limbed had the thin arms and legs of an insect, the hide of green scales glittering with the light of the fade. Their heads, domed and covered in a multitude of eyes, ended with an extended jaw full of teeth. The creature shrieked, making the men and women around it stagger back in pain...and then the man in its claws was ripped in two, showering the creature with his blood.

_Right_. Anna, sword before her, advanced, heart pounding like mad. _Maker protect me_.

"Watch out!" Then she fell, tackled onto her back as a wide-eyed soldier rolled off her, another creature of green scales and long limbs towering above them, standing just where she had a moment ago. Hissing, the beast reached back with its right hand, almost as if it was just about to slap them. But the hand ended in long claws, claws coming down as a scythe...only to stop dead as the soldier's spear caught it in the wrist, the lugs behind the spear's tip stopping the limb from continuing any further.

The beast, eyes blazing with a green light, leant closer, the hiss enraged, shrill, piercing ears and brain alike...under its gaze, the soldier wounding it froze, eyes wide and mouth hanging open even as the creature's other arm reached back for a strike.

"Maker, take you!" Surging to her feet, claymore swinging, Anna sheared off the arm stuck to the spear at the elbow, making the beast recoil. "Go back to where you came from, demon!" Her back swing was even more furious than the first blow, and there was no missing the long limb of her foe. With a shriek, the monster fell on its back, green blood spurting from the stump that was now its right leg. "Go to where you belong!" Anna jumped back, out of the way of the creature's desperate swing with its remaining arm, then lunged, the sword catching the beast in the chest, an inch pushing into it, then more as Anna leant her weight into it.

A cry...and the beast went still, the green scales shimmering as the beast began to evaporate into a blue light.

A moment later Anna was stabbing nothing but ground, the monster gone.

"Nice one!" Looking up, Anna found Varric making an approving sign, the dwarf then waved. "Come on though, keep going!" With that he turned and hurried on, crossbow almost casually putting a bolt through the head of one of the ashen creatures climbing a ledge above the advance, which by now had picked up steam as the initial wave of enemies turned into a trickle.

They were coming closer to the light reaching up towards the Breach above, though while that was comforting, Anna couldn't help but notice that the narrow path they'd so far taken was opening up into a far more open field. There were pieces of buildings still standing there, but not much, the odd chimney, a piece of a stone wall, a twisted piece of metal that had belonged to a forge. There were also corpses there, charred and blackened things, huddled up or twisted in agony, frozen in the moment of their death, most now covered in a fine layer of snow.

It made Anna's stomach twist, memories of people screaming in horror and pain all too vivid, despite the memory of the specifics of what had happened remained ever elusive. _Andraste, give me strength_...

No one else seemed to pay the devastation any mind though, or perhaps they were used to it by now. The formation of soldiers remained cohesive, the wounded being carried or supported in the middle as the rest marched on, fighting the demons coming at them piecemeal. _Maybe the worst is over_...?

"Despair!" Whipping her head around, Anna saw a huddled figure in a fluttering black cloak fly through the air, its impossibly big mouth open in a shriek that sounded more like it was in pain than a monstrous roar. Almost human arms, thin like sticks and as pale as a corpse's, reached out from the folds of its cloak as it hurtled through the air, a stream of ice shooting out from its palms at the right side of the formation.

The stream of energy struck raised shields, covering them with a heavy sheen of ice as those under them gasped under the growing weight. Then it skimmed past them and smashed into a woman in a padded jacket and a defiantly lowered halberd. The halberd instantly fell into the snow, the woman gasping as the ray of frost struck her chest. Once it stopped, the woman was on one knee, the armour around her chest frozen solid, a hint of skin around the neck as blue as ice, her head turning purple as she gasped, hands clawing at her jacket. Part of it broke, like ice snapping, taking part of the woman's flesh with it, the blood under as frozen as the rest of her chest.

Then she was on the ground, dead.

Worse, one of the shades was surging forth as well, its two arms coming down upon one of the soldiers, his frozen shield shattering like glass under the impact, making him cry out and fall on his back, clutching at a visibly broken arm. A second later a glaive cut the shade's head in two, disintegrating it. The other demon was already flying by for another pass though, and the man responsible for killing the shade cried out only for a moment as it struck him with one of its blasts of ice, freezing head, but only for a moment as the skull, turned brittle by the frost, shattered when he fell onto a rock.

"Sad things." Suddenly next to Anna, Solas made a gesture with his staff...and when the demon landed, the ground around it evaporated into fire, fire easily catching its cloak, making it shriek even louder as it was suddenly bathed in flames. "Destroying them really is a mercy."

Anna stared at him, not comprehending what in Thedas he was talking about, but before she could ask, another cry came. "Left flank, incoming!"

Solas spun, eyes narrowed, and slammed his staff into the ground. Before him, the men and women were wavering at the sight of a surge of shades coming at them, only to sheer as a wall of fire erupted a few feet in front of them, setting the whole throng of demons aflam as they surged right into it. Anna, despite her relatives in the Circle, was not used to such displays of power, and gaped in awe. "Wow..."

"Right, I forget that not everyone is as used to magic as me." Varric was muttering in the background. "Don't worry, Trevelyan, it'll seem less flashy the thirtieth time he does it."

"My hope is not to have to do so that much longer..." Solas retorted evenly.

"Ah yes, hope of peace and quiet...funny thing about that, you'll usually find yourself disappointed..."

Still in a bit of a shock, Anna shook her head to clear it, readying a reply when someone shouted yet another warning. "Rage demon!"

The creature, looking like the magma in Orzammar given shape and purpose, was blazing brighter than the wall of fire it moved through, eyes glowing orange, it gave voice to a loud roar as it surged upon the wall of soldiers, arrows simply skidding off its hide as it picked a target at random.

The man screamed, his thrusting spear sliding against the demon's flesh as it fell upon him, smashing him to the ground, demon lying on top. Demon which was glowing bright and brighter, flames emanating from what seemed to be its eyes. Underneath it, the man's screams turned from fear to agony, the stench of burning skin and hair striking Anna like a blow.

Half a dozen more spears jabbed at the creature without doing any harm, though a halberd's blow smashed into its flesh, making molten fluid, boiling with fire, pour out of it. The creature rose to its full height, roaring once more, the body that had been beneath it now little more than a blackened skeleton...and the soldiers around it inched backwards, eyes wide as the beast seemingly pulsed, growing even larger than before.

Then Anna was upon it, not realising she'd even started to move, she was suddenly close upon it, swinging hard into its right side, spilling yet more boiling content out of it as the hard crust of its skin gave way to the heavy blow. With the instincts honed from training, she then jumped back, blade held high to parry a counter blow that never came. The demon, arms stretched wide to its sides, roared and advanced on her, intent on crushing her as it had its last victim. The fire within it stronger than any other.

_No, not __any__ other_. "For _You_ are the fire at the heart of the world." Anna stepped forward, thrusting sword scrapping against the tough hide of the creature's chest, then jumped back, sword going counter-clockwise in a wide arc even before the demon lunged down to smash into the ground where she'd stood a moment ago. With a crunch, her blade found the beast's head and cut deep, slicing off the top of its head in a shower of boiling yellow liquid. Face grim, Anna stepped back, her steaming blade held in a defensive guard even as she watched the beast twist and turn to ash as it died. "And comfort is only _Yours_ to give."

"Have you memorized the whole Chant or something?" Varric muttered, coming up to stand next to her. "And why speak it now?"

"Of course, as any good Andrastian should." Anna replied, offering a pale smile. "As for your other question...the world seems to have gone crazy. I'm accused of killing the Divine with some massive explosion, the Veil is torn open and I'm now fighting demons on a mountain with a glowing hand...might as well speak something that makes sense."

"To find comfort in something like that _is_ probably a good idea right about now..." Varric agreed, the dwarf nodding. "I'll save the praying until after we're done though."

"As you wish." Anna smiled, it wasn't her place to tell others when it was a good time to think on the Chant. "Anyway, what's with the demon names? Who came up with them?"

"I did." Solas replied on Varric's behalf, the elf shrugging. "Or rather...I called them what they already are. They are demons of many feelings and thoughts, and I know these names well, I'm glad it has spread to the troops, knowing a demon for what it is is always a good thing."

"I've heard as much." Anna nodded. "That said, why...Cassandra?"

The woman marching towards her had her sword sheathed, her shield covered in ash and a face grim and determined. "Come, we are here." Grabbing Anna by the arm, the woman started pulling her along towards the front. "There isn't much time, demons are reportedly pouring out of the minor rifts surrounding us, they'll have us surrounded soon."

"Very well." Anna shook herself free of Cassandra's grip, shooting the woman an annoyed look. "I've already told you I'll help, no need to try and force me to do anything." 

"Yeah, she does that a lot, don't you, Seeker?" Varric filled in, making Cassandra grimace. But at least she nodded in apology before gesturing ahead.

There, Cullen was standing, gesturing at men and women even as he spat out his hurried orders. "Fifth regiment to merge with the eight, hold the low wall to the north. Third to fight as a rearguard with most of the templars. Captain of the sixth, I want your soldiers on the western ridge, take as many bows you can and keep an eye out for enemies. First to guard the wounded, gather all bandages and set up by the crater in the east." Looking up, the man noted the approaching group and narrowed his eyes, gaze once more going past Anna. "Solas, you _better_ be right about this." Then he turned his gaze to the next man facing him. "Fourth to shore up the defenders in the east, stay in reserve if able."

"I do, yes, or the Breach will ensure we don't live to regret it, even if we survive this battle." Solas retorted, walking closer, gaze drawn past Cullen, as was Anna's, the woman unable to help hers.

It was there, towering over them so suddenly and so simply it was hard to believe it.

The light going down to the world from the Breach was a mere hundred feet away. Within it, like some dwarven puzzle box, a lump of green stones shaped like cylinders pressed and cracked against one another, constantly shifting in some strange dance. Anna also couldn't help but notice that it was hovering over the spot where once the cathedral before the temple itself had stood.

Dark tendrils clawing at her.

Cries of agony...

Demons roaring...

A city of dark spires and grief...

A warm hand...

Anna blinked, shivering even as her hand throbbed with urgency, the green light emanating from the mark suddenly so strong it made those looking wince and turn their heads. It was pulling at Anna, tugging at her, wanting to go forwards. _I'm not sure_... Above, the Breach loomed, too large for any person to best, seemingly laughing at her puny form.

Cassandra was next to her though, and the woman's gaze was iron, glaring at the Breach. "This thing has no place in the real world. If what you say is true, if Andraste saved you, she did it for a reason..." She looked to Anna, her eyes turning almost gentle, voice a whisper. "...and the reason must be this."

Anna met the woman's gaze, then nodded, a warmth creeping into her chest, _faith_. "Yes, Andraste wills it." With that, she started to walk forward, letting the sword in her hands fall to the ground. She would not need it for this...

Ahead, Cullen looked up from his orders, stared at her, then the Breach, then muttered a soft prayer as he stepped out of her way.

Anna, looking firmly ahead, saw only the light though.

Her hand, glowing ever brighter, seemed to be humming, singing a song no one else could hear as Anna felt herself drawn closer.

She had no idea what she was doing.

Yet when she drew closer, she found her hand moving, reaching out.

Then she gasped, green arcs of lightning shooting out from her palm, striking the strange stones in the centre of the light, lashing onto them...opening them.

It was like liquid fire was pouring into her hand and down her veins, setting her whole body aflame inside. Gasping, eyes wide, Anna felt the fade swirl around her like no mortal should. There were no demons, no spirits, only a sound, like a song, a flow of syllables without meaning or purpose...and beautiful.

Then the stones clicked into place, the puzzle solved.

And all around her, others loudly gasped, as Anna did, as a black shape appeared in the light, a dark voice booming out. "The sacrifice, stop her!"

A cry of an old woman followed. "Save me, please!"

Then Anna saw herself, a figure in shadows, but still distinctly _her_, kneeling, praying fervently. "And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield..." Then, the woman looked up, voice small. "...her foundation and her sword."

It was starting to hurt, _greatly_, the fire in Anna's veins tearing into her flesh, making her struggle for air as she dropped onto one knee. The light from her hand refused to let her fall though, keeping her tethered to the glowing stones above like a chain.

Yet despite the pain, Anna couldn't help but look up through a haze of tears see herself reach up with a shaking hand, to hear her own voice tremble. "A-Andraste..?"

Then there was a flash of light, and Anna saw herself falling.

And following her was a whisper, so soft one could barely hear it. "Go, child."

The vision faded even as the puzzle of glowing stones shattered.

As did every nerve in Anna's body.

Screaming, clutching at her hand that had become the centre of an agony beyond anything she'd felt before, Anna saw the light pulse upwards, saw the Breach above groan...

Then she saw only darkness.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the coming good times._


	5. Chapter 5

"Ah, you're awake." The man's voice was calm and friendly, pleased.

Anna, not so sure about that herself, groaned. She felt like she'd been sprinting across Thedas and only now felt how exhausted she was. Every muscle, every fibre of her pleaded for rest. She managed to make her lips move, to slur out a few words. "Just a few minutes more..."

"Of course, as you wish."

Anna frowned, that wasn't how it used to go. _If father or one of the servants sent by him_..._wait_, _no, I'm not at home, I'm_..._Maker_! Anna sat up straight, suddenly wide awake. "By Andraste, I'm...what happened!? Where am I?!"

Looking around herself with wide open eyes, Anna took in her surroundings with confusion. It was a small building she was in, more of a shack than a house, though the walls were solidly made from the trunks of multiple trees. The only thing of stone was the chimney, the fire within throwing a comfortable glow over a largely barren room. A table with some tools on, a rocking chair with a chipped armrest, a rug from some large white-furred beast, a desk with many half-open drawers and one leg propped up by a wooden log was all there was in the room. And, of course, the bed she lay in, small, propped with straw and with sheets that seemed far too coarse for what they were intended for.

"You're safe, in Haven." Shaking her head, Anna managed to focus on the man standing by the foot of her bed. Solas, hands behind his back, offered a gentle smile. "You passed out while connected to the Breach. I do apologise, I did not anticipate dealing with it to be so...painful. Still, I'd call the result a success."

Anna felt her shoulder slump. "So it's done? The Breach is gone?"

"No." Solas noticed her grimace and quickly continued. "It is not growing anymore though, it's stable and not spewing out demons in even a fraction of the numbers it did before. Also, you are alive and your mark is no longer spreading. All in all, as I said, a success." Anna sighed, but nodded even as the elf continued. "I'm guessing the Breach cannot be sealed by the mark enough, it's simply not powerful enough, and needs more power to do the job...but I'm sure the others will fill you in on that plan soon enough. Until then, how are you feeling?"

"Bit tired, it all feels like a dream..." Anna's hand came up, rubbing her forehead with a chuckle. "Was I really on a mountain fighting _demons_ a while ago? Sounds absurd." She looked down. "Also, I'm a bit co_oooold_!?" With a horrified gasp, she gripped onto the sheet that had started to slide down her chest. "_Solas_!"

"What? I had to examine you. And one of those human healers Cullen keeps feared you'd gotten hurt in the fighting and she _insisted_ on a full physical." Solas shook his head in frustration. "Quite unnecessary, I can tell you, and..." He paused, looking to Anna's mortified expression. "Why are you...oh, the nakedness?" He smiled and shook his head. "Really, don't concern you, you're not my...type."

_Oh, he's one of those_... Anna had never quite understood how some could have a fascination with their own gender, but it was reassuring to know Solas was one at the moment. "Ah, well...good." Calming down, Anna took a deep breath. "Do you have clothes for me then? And what's going on? You said something about the others? And a plan?"

"Of course." Solas went over to the desk and pulled up a beige tunic and trousers. "I believe these were left behind by some noble in a rush to get out of here, they should suffice for now, here." Laying them down on her lap, Solas quickly stepped back and continued. "First of all, I think Cassandra wanted to tell you herself, but you should know that you are no longer considered a prisoner by the Inquisition. Rowyn and whatever supporters might have a different opinion, but as of now you're considered innocent of the charges first laid against you." Anna once more felt her shoulders slump even as she swung her legs over the bed and began to dress. She'd known she was innocent, and she _did_ believe that there had never been any evidence to convict. Yet it was still like someone had taken an enormous burden off her shoulders. "In fact, not only that, but you seem to have gathered quite the following."

"Following?" Anna repeated, pausing in the middle of lacing up the trousers given to her, unsurprisingly they were too short for a woman of her height, stopping above her ankles, but they would do. "What are you talking about? Why?" Anna didn't like the sound of that, though not shy, the idea of someone being a fan of hers seemed alien.

"An excellent question, though one with an obvious set of answers." Solas nodded, then raised a hand, a single finger coming up instantly. "One, you escaped the fade when all others died." Then another. "Two, you did so with a glowing woman behind you, possibly Andraste herself, an assumption now rife in the camp." Anna was about to protest about the 'assumption' part, but Solas was faster, a third finger coming up. "You came with a mark that turned out to be the _key_ to stopping the Breach from swallowing the world." A fourth. "When you did this, you opened a vision of the past showing you praying and then being helped to your feet by a golden figure of a woman who told you to go, something many perceived as a direct blessing from Andraste herself." Finally, a fifth finger shot up. "And now it seems you are the only one with the ability to close the rifts spreading all over Thedas, threatening us with being overwhelmed by demons from the fade...our saviour in the flesh, rather than an idol of one in a Chantry."

Anna stood up, shifting in her trousers even as she grimaced. Nothing of that was inherently wrong...but nothing of that meant that _she_ should be the one idolized. "I...see."

"They're calling you the Herald of Andraste." Solas continued, clearly amused by the look on Anna's face. "In fact, you might have to steel yourself for walking out the door, there's quite a crowd of...well worshippers isn't too far off a description...waiting for you."

Anna paled. "You're kidding."

"Afraid not."

"Do they not see that the one they should thank and think of their saviour is Andraste and the Maker, rather than me, a mere conduit?" Anna asked, the idea of being worshipped sitting ill with her. With a uneasy shiver, she pulled her tunic on, finding it slightly too small around the shoulders and too big at the front, meant for a woman with more curves than muscles. "All I did was use that which I'd been given."

"Maybe they do make that distinction, at least some of them." Solas replied evenly. "However, was not Andraste a conduit of the Maker? If I understand your religion correctly?" _My religion_? _Oh, are you Dalish_? _You lack those silly tattoos_. Anna brushed the thought aside, at the moment she had too much to think about than to consider some pagan beliefs."As such, I do not find their behaviour odd, nor should you." He paused, measuring Anna with a wry expression. "Question is, how will _you_ handle it?"

"As my beliefs and morals require of me." Anna replied, frowning at the thought that there could be any other response as she straightened to her full height.

Solas, now forced to look up at the tall woman, smiled. "Ah, the high road? A narrow and difficult path...I look forward to see if you'll be able to follow it." Anna's frown deepened, but before she could reply, the man continued. "Anyway, I was also to tell you about the plans and such? I personally do not know the details, I only know that Cassandra, Cullen, Josephine and that Baldwin fellow have been quite busy in the Chantry. They want the Breach and rifts dealt with permanently, and then there's that issue with the Divine being killed and the Templar and Mage war still being fought..." Solas shrugged. "It seems they are quite ambitious."

"They want to do what's right." Anna concluded, nodding to herself. "As must I." _Maker, father's going to kill me_. She brushed off the thought, she had a higher calling, that much was clear to her. _Though all before me is shadow, Yet shall the Maker be my guide_..._yes, guide me now, I implore you_. "I should go see them."

"That was what Cassandra asked you'd do, yes. I'd ask you to stay so we can discuss the mark and analyse it and its capabilities more thoroughly, but I understand that that'll have to wait for another time." Solas nodded and moved over to the desk, leaning over some notes on it as he picked up a pen. His words made Anna look down at her palm, there was no pain there, only a..._presence_, a feeling of something in her hand and arm, like a splinter that wasn't hurting. A white scar, almost as large as her palm, was all she could see. "I'll need to make some notes, but you go on, I'm sure we'll talk again soon."

"Yes..." Anna moved towards the door, then stopped, giving Solas' back a glance. "...and thank you, for saving my life and...all the help you've given so far. You risked much for me, I won't forget that."

"Don't mention it." Solas replied, not even turning. "You're not the only one attempting a narrow and difficult path."

_Awww_.

The response made Anna smile even as she opened the door and walked outside into the cold.

Only to nearly stumble on a woman on her knees outside the door. "Maker! Are you okay?" Bending down to help the woman up, she found the hands gripping hers trembling. "Serah?"

The woman, skin wrinkled by age and weather, grinned. "I am, I am, thank you, I...thank you so much." A tear ran down the woman's cheek. "My boy is alive because of you..." 

"Well...you're welcome." Anna smiled, confused as to who the woman was speaking of, then patted the woman on the shoulder and turned to move on.

Before her, a sea of people waited, all with eyes wide in wonder, some kneeling, others with their hands clasped before them in prayer. Anna, lost for words, just stared back, not sure what to do.

Then there was a rustle of chain mail behind her and group of men in armour moved past her to form a rough wedge of pushing hands and muscle. "Alright, people, make way. By order of Commander Cullen, make way for the Herald."

Anna, too confused to do anything else, followed the men, staring at everything and everyone around her overwhelmed by the looks of wonder she was getting in return. _Maker, this is_..._this is too much to take in_.

Though while the wedge of armoured soldiers did make a path for her, there was nothing to her sides, and the crowd of people, though keeping a respectful distance, were near enough to almost touch her as they jockeyed for being the one closest to her when she passed. To her right, a man dropped onto one knee and held his hands clasped in prayed. "Herald, please bless my mother, she's very sick."

Anna winced._ This is not_..._I'm not_..._I was saved, maybe even blessed, by Andraste, but I'm not __her_. Still, she had to reply, didn't she? "I'll add her to my evening prayers, if the Maker wills it, He'll heed me, for only He can bless her."

Her reply was all that was needed for the whole crowd, like a field of grass before the wind, to drop onto one knee, hands clasped in prayer as she passed.

"Herald, bless me with a successful childbirth."

"I'll...pray for it."

"Herald, please bless my sword against the demons ahead."

"All swords used in service of the Maker are blessed..."

Anna, awkward, feeling like a fraud, tried to answer each request as properly as she could. I_'m not the Maker, not even Andraste had the power to do these things, only He can_..._why are they asking these things_!?

"Herald, my daughter is a templar. Please, I need to know she's okay."

"I...I'll pray for her."

"My father died in the explosion, he was a good man but didn't go to the Chantry as often as the priests says he should..."

"I'll pray for his soul, I'm sure the Maker saw his worth, He sees all."

"A demon ate my mother, will she never go to the Maker?"

"Of course she will, I'll pray for her." 

_Maker, my evening prayer will be an hour long_...

A little child, all pigtails and freckles, stared at her from under her mother's skirts, then giggled and looked away. Her brother, nothing but skin and bones, looked more suspicious though. "You don't look like Andraste."

The mother gasped in horror, but Anna only chuckled as she passed, there were few women matching the ethereal beauty of Andraste, and Anna was certainly not among them. "Indeed I'm not."

"Yeah." Another child, a young girl with dirty hair and a mouth with many missing teeth, snorted. "She's the _Herald_ of Andraste, _dummy_." She finished the correction by poking out her tongue. Around her, the adults exchanged horrified glances, a murmur of worry travelling across the sea of bowed heads.

Anna, not sure if she should approve of such a title or not, smiled and ruffled the girl's hair as she passed, a Chant easily slipping from her lips. "A learned child is a blessing upon his parents and onto the Maker." Instantly, the man and woman flanking the child went from looking like they wanted to dig themselves into a hole to glowing with pride.

The girl, shaking her head, seemed to disapprove though. "I'm not a he, I'm a _she_."

That broke the spell, a ripple of laughter passed across the crowd as some air of worship passed from them. Anna, relieved to find some rising back to their feet, dutifully laughed alongside them. "So you are, my apologies."

Finally finding herself free from the difficult requests and questions, Anna forced herself to ignore the many gazes following her as she looked around herself, curious of her surroundings since she'd only gotten a brief look of Haven before.

Haven, once a village in the middle of nowhere, had grown following the revelation of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, yet it was still a humble village in its entirety. The houses were small and made of wood, all placed wherever they could fit on the uneven ground of the mountainside. As such, unlike many other villages, there were no clusters of houses, Many sat on their own little natural terraces, surrounded by rock and snow as paths of stamped earth connected them all. Around the village that were but three dozen houses, what seemed like a hundred tents, if not more, had been erected, and Anna could see men and women working on constructing more buildings near them, longer buildings of wood clearly meant to be a more permanent barracks.

At the centre of it all though, as always, was the Chantry. The only structure of stone, it had clearly been expanded since the discovery of the Sacred Ashes. Not particularly high, it had been expanded on the breath, making it both broad and sturdy, a truly Fereldian structure. Though Anna had heard rumours that it had once been a home for a cult, there was little sign of that now. It looked like a previously poor Chantry that had recently gotten a boost of fortune, nothing more.

Seeing the soldiers escorting her march towards it, Anna followed, only to suddenly come to a halt when they turned around and knelt, clenched fists across their chests. Their captain, a young man with a fat face and broad shoulders, was the only one to look up, his previous authoritative bark when commanding the civilians aside was gone, now his voice was a hushed whisper. "Herald I...the others are inside the Chantry, they bade me escort you to them..."

Anna, decidedly uncomfortable with the man's behaviour, offered an uncertain smile. "Thank you, Captain. Maker go with you."

"He...he will?" The man asked, eyes wide, mouth turning into an elated smile.

_Oh dear_... Anna grimaced, seemed everything she said was being grasped onto as gospel. "Maker walks with us all, friend." Not wanting to further mess things up, Anna walked on with long steps, quickly crossing the distance to the Chantry. There were two guards there who, bowing their heads as far as they could, pushed the gates open for her. Anna, though used to such behaviour back home, though now that there was clearly a different reason for them doing so, felt odd.

The Chantry within was extravagantly decorated, golden statues with rubies inserted for eyes stared down from the ceiling, the windows had extravagantly coloured windows, the carpets covering the entire floor were of finer quality, the pillars themselves, once clearly of bare stone, had been decorated with marble plates depicting various figures from the Chant, all done in exquisite detail. Clearly, the Chantry had tried to make the somewhat modest place of worship so close to the Temple of Sacred Ashes something more impressive than it actually was.

Anna frowned in disapproval, she'd never liked the gaudier parts of the Chantries, for did the Chant not teach humility? A _key_ trait one should possess when taking the pilgrimage to the Ashes? To then try to impress and tempt with greed and awe seemed wrong, worldly._ Justinia surely never saw this Chantry, this is not how one so close to our most holy of sites should look_. Still frowning, Anna marched on. She wasn't sure where to go, but considering the moderate size of the place, she wasn't too worried.

She didn't get too far though, for suddenly a woman appeared out of the shadows, hand raised in greeting. "Ah, I heard you were up but wasn't sure if you'd come right away, I'm glad you did though."

Stopping and turning, Anna eyed the woman with curiosity. She was short for a woman, making her seem almost like a dwarf compared to Anna. Delicately featured, she was definitely human, though her skin betrayed either an Antivan or Rivaini descent, and her accent confirmed the former. Dressed in a fine dress of golden satin and blue silk, she was also clearly a woman of worth. In fact, she almost looked...familiar.

"Anna Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste, as official ambassador of the Inquisition, I'd like to officially welcome you to Haven. I'm aware that there before was little time for such...niceties." The woman made a curtsy in Orlesian fashion, her head dipped and arms to her sides. "I'm Josephine Montilyet, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure is mine." Anna mirrored the woman's curtsy, though with far less skill, she was not as graceful as her siblings. _Eugh, should have done the Marcher bow instead, now she'll think me as clumsy_. Josephine's expression was still genuinely polite, however, making Anna inwardly wince as she realised why the woman looked familiar. "And I do believe we've met a good couple of years ago. I was only ten at the time, at my great Aunt Lucille's salon...I was bleeding a fair bit at the time though."

Josephine's eyes widened in shock, then a hand went up to her mouth, a polite titter, like little bells, escaping her. "Oh yes, the massacre of Ser Lown's children! It was spoken of for months in half the courts in Thedas, the Fereldian guests were in particular amused!"

"The eldest pulled my hair, not my fault the two others jumped in when I pushed him away..." Anna protested meekly, cheeks burning from the memory even as a smile slowly stole its way to her face. "But I showed them, didn't I? And I never had to attend another of those salons ever again after that as a bonus."

"That you did." Josephine nodded, smiling politely. "I'm not a fan of violence myself, but I must admit they were due a lesson...they were a trio of brats, no question." Taking a deep breath, Josephine looked Anna up and down. "Maker, what was that, fourteen years ago? And look at you now, all grown up." Anna held back a grimace, she was quite conscious of her height, it was great when sparring, and it came in handy at times, but it didn't help her already fairly flat and muscled body look any more feminine. It was particularly jarring when around someone like Josephine who looked every inch the noble woman, beautiful, clever and courtly...none qualities Anna could describe herself with. "Seems you became just what Lucille predicted through gritted teeth...a warrior." Josephine smiled kindly, as if reading Anna's feelings on the matter. "You're just what we need." A pause, and Josephine cocked her head to the side. "One might even call it divine intervention..."

"All is as the Maker wills it." Anna replied, not sure if she actually preferred discussing Andraste choosing her over her lack of noble qualities. "And I intend to honour His will as best I can."

To her surprise, Josephine smile grew at the answer. "Good, that is _just_ what I wanted to hear." _Huh_? Gesturing towards a door at the far side of the Chantry, Josephine made a little bow. "Please, come with me, we must discuss this with the others."

"Discuss what, exactly?" Anna asked, moving along as she found Josephine's hand on the small of her back. "Solas mentioned something of a...plan?"

"Indeed, and might I be so bold as to say that you might like it...?"

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, my dove._


	6. Chapter 6

When Anna entered behind Josephine, easily looking over the other woman's head, she took in the surroundings with curiosity.

In contrast to the gaudy hall behind them, this room was largely empty. The marks on the walls suggested old furniture had recently been moved out, making way for a few benches along the walls as well as a large table of questionable quality in its centre. A window no one had bothered to replace with a coloured one like in the main hall let in but a pale sliver of light into the room, illuminating the map atop the table. The rest of the room was lit up by oil lamps hanging from the undecorated walls.

The inhabitants of note all sat by the benches at the far end. The grey-haired Baldwin sat on his own in a corner. Illuminated by a nearby lamp, his smooth skin and twinkling eyes made him look younger than his hair suggested. His dark blue eyes seemed to see right through Anna, making a cold shiver run down her spine as he smiled at her. She hadn't heard anything about the man, but the left hand of the Divine had...a reputation.

Cassandra and Cullen were there as well, the former nodding seriously to something the later had said, her polished breastplate glinting, the woman looking ready to travel and fight on a moment's notice. Cullen on the other hand was dressed in a red tunic and trousers, the golden epaulettes on his shoulders suggesting it was a uniform of some sort. It was opened at the collar, revealing a scarred neck almost as imposing as the one across Cassandra's cheek.

As the door closed behind them, the two warriors looked up and smiled, Cassandra genuinely pleased, Cullen somewhat uncertainly. Josephine was quick to speak. "Anna Trevelyan, I believe you've already met Baldwin, Cassandra and Cullen?"

"Yes, it's a pleasure to see you all again." Anna smiled pleasantly and stepped up to the table, trying to make herself not glance down at the map and the little tin pieces lying next to it. A Trevelyan didn't snoop. Reaching out, she found one of the two elves, clearly brought by Josephine rather than any of the locals from Haven, given their quiet grace and fine clothing, handing her a glass of warm wine. "Thank you." She tried to ignore the woman's whispered prayer as she quietly inched away. "I understand you to be the left and right hand of the divine plus a...commander? I'm sorry, Cullen, but it's still hard to wrap my head around the Inquisition being back."

"There's a lot to wrap one's head around as of late." Cullen replied with a curt nod, accepting a glass of wine for himself and taking a swallow before continuing. "And it's not much of an Inquisition yet, our losses were...well...devastating." He grimaced, then took another swallow of wine, obviously ill at ease with the admission. "Still, it's a victory, of sorts."

"It's a victory, that is all." Cassandra noted with a nod, though her hardened face softened a little as she fixed her gaze on Anna. "And you? How are you feeling? I assume Solas has already told you we're no longer holding you as a prisoner?" At Anna's nod, the woman snorted. "Figures, he takes far too many liberties..."

"But he _is_ useful." Baldwin noted smiling wryly as he finally got up from his seat, his hand shooting up to quickly reject the offered glass of wine without even casting it a glance. He arched his eyebrows at Anna instead. "Or would you not agree, our Herald of Andraste...?" Was there a hint of sarcasm in his voice? It was impossible to tell, the man's voice seemed to be naturally amused, making it impossible to tell if he was being serious or not.

"I suppose I would." Anna agreed, straightening where she stood, daring the man to question her.

Baldwin said nothing though, instead he seemed to see everything, in particular the others now on his left as they approached the other end of the table.

Cassandra seemed...pleased? Anna wasn't good at judging faces, and Cassandra's look was one Anna hadn't really seen before. She was definitely _staring_ though.

Cullen was an easier read, the man was shifting from side to side, uneasy, unsure.

Josephine was the only one keeping a proper mask, smiling pleasantly as she waited for the others to speak.

Cassandra was the first to speak, the woman's hand coming down in a chopping gesture as she shot the others a defiant glare. "No dancing around the porridge, I saw what I saw at the Breach. I saw _Andraste herself _guide Anna here, _save_ her, the title is well-deserved. As to what she _does_ with it..." She looked up at Anna, gaze steady. "...is up to her."

With a curt gesture, Josephine ordered the silent servants out of the room.

Anna, feeling a vice holding her heart at the responsibility she was suddenly feeling, one she was unaccustomed to, turned to Cullen for an opinion as she did not trust her own voice just yet. The man, still shifting where he stood, grimaced. "I...saw it too, I saw all of it. Mind you, while I'm a believer, I also know not to trust _everything_ I see." He paused, giving an apologetic nod. "My experiences have made me a bit of a cynic, I'm afraid."

Anna nodded back, she could respect that, in fact, her own theological studies had lead to many questions, teaching her that one should _not_ take anything in the chant literally. _Of course, denying what you see with your own eyes is a bit drastic_... Anna shrugged it aside, Cullen surely had his reasons. Instead, she turned to Baldwin, making the man smile. "I believe in many things, your worship, and certainly in your power. It seems you're divine providence, indeed."

_That's not an answer to what you believe_. Anna frowned, the man was all smiles, looking amused...and slippery._ Eugh, spies_, _left hand of the divine or not_..._there's no honour in that_.

"_Regardless_ of what anyone here believes, I myself find it all quite extraordinary, but not unbelievable, given current events. The fact is that everyone _outside_ believes it." Josephine spoke quickly and surely, each word handled with surety. "And the tale is spreading, _fast_, the news of the Divine's death and the explosion is barely keeping up with how the Breach's expansion was halted, in fact." Josephine turned her head to Baldwin. "Someone has been spreading it."

Anna frowned in anger. "You shouldn't have, not without my permission, I'm the one that'll have to deal with the fallout of that." _Damn it, father's going to kill me_..._twice over by now_.

"I apologise." Baldwin bowed his head, though the smile of his never faded, making the words seem hollow to her. "I thought it prudent to do so, given the current situation. Your promise to face Rowyn's charges once this crisis is dealt with were most...unfortunate, we've already received a letter demanding you come to Val Royeaux, she sent it even before she reached it herself." The man spread his arms wide, shrugging. "You being thought of as potentially chosen by Andraste herself will keep the mob too unsure to go with Rowyn's claims that you killed the Divine...as well as keeping some mothers of the Chantry from outright siding with her in their condemnation of you."

Josephine shook her head. "The promise we can work with, it shows goodwill and a proper respect for the Chantry. But the fact of the matter is that the crisis is _not_ over. The Breach is still in the sky and from it there seems to appear many smaller rifts all over Thedas that is spewing out demons. While the Breach might have killed us all in days, these smaller rifts will still make Thedas a wasteland, given enough time." The woman shrugged, turning her gaze to Anna. "Miss Trevelyan might still go, but as long as she works in stopping the Breach and destroying the rifts, claims that the crisis is over will ring hollow...at least for a time."

"That depends on _her_ though." Baldwin countered, eyeing Anna with a wry smile. "So, Anna, what will you do? Will you defy a summons by the Chantry itself to be tried for your alleged crimes right away? The order gives you a week to arrive."

Anna bristled, straightening to her full length, she glared down at the man. "I'm religious, I'm _not_ an idiot, I know what would await me. I'm not blind to the Chantry politics, in fact I have plenty of experience within it. Rowyn wants a scapegoat. With that scapegoat, she'll rally support from a shattered Chantry hierarchy, with that support she'll be _Divine_." She snorted. "Yet, yes, I will go, _when_, as Josephine says, the crisis is over, or at least under control. My actions will speak louder than words, and Rowyn's own will fall on deaf ears._ Foul and corrupt are you, who has taken My gift, and turned it against My children_."

To Anna's frustration, Baldwin's only reply was a smile and a nod, the man obviously pleased.

"That's a warning against the dangers of magic, isn't it?" Cullen asked, obviously perplexed by Anna's recital of the chant.

"That depends on context, surely?" Anna countered. "What is Rowyn's position as Chancellor of the Chantry, if not a gift from the Maker?" The reply made the man pause, then nod, frowning as he seemed to contemplate the notion. "And as for what I'll do, my answer hasn't changed since when you held me in chains." Anna turned her gaze to Cassandra. Baldwin's words had stung, annoying her to the point of forgetting the pit of fear in her stomach. She'd shoulder the responsibility thrust upon her no matter what he or _anyone_ says, Andraste wills it! "I will help you against this Breach, against the rifts, against whoever caused it. I will honour Andraste's faith in me to the best of my limited ability, and I will do His will until I can do no more..." She took a deep breath, the words were heavy, loaded with promises of hardship and danger, to approach them unflinching was foolish. Yet, she forced herself to continue. "...this, by the honour of the house of Trevelyan, on the Chant of Light, on my life, I swear."

Cassandra blinked, then, slowly, a smile crept unto her face, one remaining even as kept her voice solemn. "Such an oath gives you credit, I have sworn a similar one, and am pleased to have someone sharing my commitment in this."

"We are _all_ committed, whatever our oath." Cullen grunted, the man looking unimpressed as he pushed his thumbs in under his belt. "By allying with Anna here, we are officially siding against a powerful faction within the Chantry, not to mention that we are less than welcomed among both Templars and Mages. Even most nations will be careful about approaching us...if they even _care_, we are a minor fish at the moment."

Anna, realising that the time for moral choices was over, grimaced. _You're in it now, Anna, it's easy to make an oath, harder to keep it_..._Maker, I'm insane_. "How bad is it?"

"Before the explosion, we'd gathered a good two thousand recruits to be the backbone of the Chantry's new army. They were still being trained by a small core of loyalist templars and being equipped by the Chantry when the Breach came into being." Cullen shook his head. "The losses have been catastrophic, we have less than eight hundred effective left, the demons left few wounded, but those who are will either soon succumb to their wounds or end up as crippled for life." The man's sword-hand clenched into a fist at the words, but his expression remained a frown rather than the anger or pain he seemed to feel at the admission. "I have elected to stay on as commander despite this..." He shrugged. "...there's no one else."

"The losses were inevitable, given the situation, we've been through that already." Cassandra quickly snapped, hesitating at giving Cullen's shoulder a squeeze before simply letting her hand fall back. Looking back to Anna, she shrugged. "Those that remain are in poor shape too, they need time to recover, to heal."

"Yes. And to add to that we now have a supply-problem." Cullen growled, looking down at the map, as if seeing something the others didn't in the jagged lines. "Rowyn might not have any true authority as a Chancellor, but she does control the administration, and in the absence of a Divine or Grand Cleric, she's effectively in control of it. We are now without coin to pay our troops, equipment to give them or even food to _feed_ them." He shook his head, voice nearly a whisper. "It's amazing that there hasn't been any desertions..."

"Not as amazing as you might think." Baldwin interjected, shooting Anna a smirk before turning his attention to the map itself too. It made Anna frown. _What are they seeing_? _Maker, I hate being late to a meeting and hearing others talk of stuff I don't know anything of yet_. "Templars see us as rivals and we, being founded by the Chantry and carrying the name 'Inquisition', are viewed with suspicion by the mages as well. If we are to close the Breach, we'll likely need the help of either or both factions to weaken it or empower your mark." He paused, but only for a moment. "The populous doesn't know us, and Rowyn's denouncement will make them wary. Adding to that; with no Divine, titles like the Left and and Right hand do not carry the same weight...we are _weak_, essentially."

"And whoever spoke at the Breach..." Cassandra muttered, shaking her head. "He's surely dead, but couldn't have worked alone. Whatever group that is, whatever their agenda, they are our enemies."

"Indeed." Baldwin agreed with a nod, still all smiles, as if they were doing nothing but discussing the weather. "My agents have reported nothing specific, but there are curious rumblings in many groups. The Grey Wardens, Tevinter, the Qunari, the Dalish...there are peculiar behaviours from all directions. It reminds me of a saying, when the ship is sinking, the rats are the first to go." A tiny chuckle escaped the man at the words. "Not reassuring, I admit."

"There were...'rumblings'?" Anna, annoyed with the man and his attitude, with his job and his twinkling eyes, frowned at him. "Aren't you supposed to be the spy-master or the Divine? How did you not see this coming? I've heard of Cullen by way of rumour, I know Josephine, Cassandra is _famous_...you though, I don't know you."

"Baldwin is-" Cassandra started, only to stop when the man raised his hand.

His smile, unaffected by Anna's harsh words, didn't quite reach his eyes as he returned her gaze unflinchingly. "Pardon me, Serah, but there's _always_ grumblings and threats to the Divine's life. Do not think I take her death lightly, it _is_ on my head that I failed to spot whatever befell her. _However_, lopping mine off as compensation would be doing her memory a disservice..." The man bowed deeply, his movements surprisingly flexible for a man with a head full of grey hair. "I'm Baldwin Fitz Herbert, at your service."

_Fitz, eh_? _So a bastard in blood __and__ profession_? Anna shook the thought aside, it was unworthy of her. Still...a commoner was likely not educated as a noble, and so needed to earn his place. "And how does one qualify for a job as spy-master, exactly...?"

Cassandra glowered in annoyance at the question, clearly ready to rush in to Baldwin's defence, Cullen on the other hand seemed more amused than anything while Josephine seemed busy examining her nails. Baldwin didn't miss a step though, eyes twinkling as he chuckled. "Why, I was an Antivan pirate, well, informer, more like it. Then I was their king's man, then I had a stint as a Fereldian scout, followed by becoming an Orlesian bard. Then I also spent a brief time being Nevarra's spy-master, before finally turning to the Chantry and becoming a high-ranking spy of theirs."

Anna grimaced in disgust at the list._ A turncoat and a __pirate__, and one of those treacherous __bards_!?

The man seemed to read her like a book, but that only made him smirk. "As to why I then became the Left hand...I _survived_, not many can say the same when so many former employers come after you, in fact, _none_ can." The man shrugged, looking away. "I heard another was considered, once, a better person, no doubt, but she heroically fell at Denerim...such a waste."

"Dying to defend the innocent from the Blight is _not_ a waste." Anna growled, the man was getting to her nerves. His job was bad enough, but his behaviour and unashamed admittance of so many dishonourable tasks left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Indeed not, pardon my poor choice of words." Again, the man didn't look the least bit apologetic. "I would, however, think _surviving_ the battle would have done the world a better service, don't you?" He looked at Anna, eyes innocent, taunting.

And she, grumbling, looked away and nodded. "Yes, I guess." 

"Excellent!" Josephine stepped forward with a smile, the examination of her nails apparently done. "Then we can focus on the positive bits of our position, no?" She turned her head, looking to each in turn, only to find them all staring blankly at her. "Rowyn might have cut us off from supplies from the Chantry, but she's just a clerk, her condemnation is not that of the Chantry, which is fractured. All who survived are Mothers and Sisters more used to taking care of their own flock or to receiving instructions than to take part in the central politics, many who also resent Rowyn from earlier dealings with her."

"That is...more of a mitigating factor then a positive." Cassandra pointed out, eyebrow arched.

"Then how about this? Anna here is the _only_ person that can seal the rifts, as far as we know. Already, local nobles are asking for our assistance in clearing out their lands. Doing so will secure us supplies, soldiers and political support. Also, the rumours of Anna's mark is already circulating, any confirmation of it will be met by awe and joy." Anna grimaced. _It's the Mark given by Andraste, not a circus performance_... "Recruits will pour in by the hundreds, if not thousands, given enough time." Josephine swept her hand over the map. "And we might be weak, yes, but so are many others. Orlais' civil war might be on hold, but it's still a ravaged land. Ferelden is still rebuilding from the Blight and is suffering the brunt of the Mage-Templar war. And now we have rifts from which endless demons pour out, leading to every local noble fighting a losing war of attrition." Josephine smiled awkwardly at the others. "It's horrible, all of it, but it's also a moment of opportunity for whomever grasps it."

Anna blinked, impressed, she hadn't thought of _any_ of that. _Maker, why can't life be simple_...?

Cullen was the first to speak, the man nodding. "A fine point, but right now we need to consider surviving the _immediate_ future. We need food, troops, equipment...I have _ten_ horses for the entire Inquisition...we need to look to these needs before taking on anything else."

"Doing that and showing the people Anna's mark goes hand in hand, easily." Baldwin said, a thin finger shooting out from his robe to press down on the map. "Here, in the east, the Hinterlands...a little wild, but plenty of farms and herds of rams. It's being hit hard by templars and mages, not to mention rifts. Regular people are fleeing or hiding as best they can. If we – or rather, Anna – saves them and their land, they'll go back to work on it and gladly assist us with whatever we require, I imagine."

"I'm not a thing to parade in front of people to make them join us..." Anna growled, annoyed at the man's cynicism.

"No, you're the Herald of Andraste, and you will save them from death and poverty." Baldwin calmly retorted, smiling back. "The rest is just a pleasant side-effect..which will enable you to save even more people and _perform_ Andraste's will, no?"

Anna grunted, annoyed with herself as she looked away. _Yes, of course, I just_..._it's the way you say it_. "Anyway, isn't this Fereldian territory? I doubt queen Anora will look kindly on a foreign power taking part of her land."

"That is a question of definitions." Josephine smoothly replied. "We are _protecting_ it and her subjects, any aid the locals render us in return are freely given gifts and donations, and we of course bow to any Fereldian claims to the land itself." She shrugged. "However, currently we shouldn't worry too much. Anora has, in the wake of the Templar-Mage war, pulled back most forces to her cities and fortresses when it comes to the west. The Fereldian army itself is largely concentrated in the wealthier east and north, holding trade-routes and the like, I can only imagine that the appearance of these rifts will further such developments. She's nothing if not strategic and won't waste resources in pointless conflicts...I'm sure we will be able to use a liberated Hinterlands until she feels strong enough to challenge us without risking any other of her pieces."

"We will do what is _right_ in the Hinterlands, any consequences for that..." Cassandra shrugged. "...we'll bear them." The simple words made Anna smile and nod, _that_ sentiment was something she could agree with.

"Also, there's a Mother in the Hinterlands, Mother Giselle. If she's not dead, then she'd prove a valuable ally, she's always been a practical sort, if my reports are accurate, and would undoubtedly favour us if given an explanation of the situation. With her, we would have someone counter-balancing Rowyn's claims in the Chantry politics." Baldwin noted, nodding to himself as his gaze darted to the mark in the map signifying Val Royeaux. "It would buy us time to gather more support, at least."

"You want me to find her, don't you?" Anna sighed at Baldwin's wry smile. "Fine...but what if she's dead? The templars are still somewhat respectful of the Chantry, but some of the mages seem to target them especially, as I've heard."

"Then she's dead." Baldwin shrugged. "All I can ask is that you try." He paused, making Anna sigh as she realised he wanted more. "Also, if you can find him, there's reports of a Grey Warden in the area. Now, it might be nothing, but they seem to have all but disappeared from southern Thedas, just before the explosion at the temple...I'd like to question him."

"_Question_?"

"Nothing distasteful, I assure you, I'm no brute that shoves my way to an answer that'll prove incorrect, I'm smarter than that." Baldwin smiled, but there was a glimmer of something chilling underneath his eyes. "We'll just...talk."

"Fine, I'll try to find your Warden." Anna grunted, then took a step back, arms crossed over her chest. "But for the record, I'm not a fan of being sent on errands, even if they're just and honourable. You've all planned this, I know, and you're part of this council or whatever it is, but I will not be some figurehead without a voice, my oath doesn't make me one of your recruits, I'm a _Trevelyan_, not a common soldier."

Cassandra looked a bit offended at the words, but Cullen nodded in agreement even as Josephine quickly interjected. "Of course not, Serah, you have given your aid freely and we will not misuse it. We're pressed on time at the moment, but later, we'll gladly accept you on this council to make your opinion heard." She turned her head, looking to the others. "No?"

A chorus of ascents were heard.

Anna, pleased that she'd made herself understood, nodded. _Father always said one should stand up for your rights, for if you don't, you lose them_. Still, hearing his words and _following_ them was another matter, she was the youngest in the room, awkward and with little experience in comparison to most. But she had done well at the Breach, earned herself a place of rank even without her noble blood entitling it to her, she would have to remember that. "Good. Now, I assume I'm not going on my own...?"

"You're not." Cassandra took a step forward, head held high and a hand resting on the pommel of her sword. "I will come, as will Varric and Solas."

Anna arched an eyebrow. _That's it_?

Luckily, Cullen spoke up before she could change her mind about such a suicidal notion as to go into the Hinterlands with only three others to potentially fight a horde of templars and mages. "As mentioned, the army needs to rest and heal, but we sent out our scouts into the Hinterlands before the battles to look for assistance and get them to us, so they are unscathed. They might only be a hundred in numbers, but they're all of stern stuff, woodsmen and hunters the lot of them. With some caution and use of the terrain, I think the Hinterlands could be subdued, it's largely a big and confused skirmish, after all." Cullen nodded. "At least that's what their commander Harding reported, find her and get a more fresh report, then see what you can do." The last he said to Cassandra as much as Anna, who both nodded. "I myself will get the army back into shape...and do something about this base of ours, it'll keep the people busy, if nothing else."

"And I have _a lot_ of letters to write..." Josephine twisted her wrist, eliciting a crack from it. "Dealing with the Arl of Redcliffe and Rowyn will be my first priority though. I'll make sure you'll suffer no interference from either during this. Then there's...a few hundred more to write." The woman grimaced.

"And I...well, it's best not to tell." Baldwin chuckled at Anna's angry look. "I'll serve, let's leave it at that while the walls have ears..." A glance past Anna, towards one of the walls...and there was a whimper as someone ran off.

Anna whirled about as there was a trio of curses behind her, but Baldwin only calmly walked towards the door, not raising his voice. "Don't concern yourselves with this, I'll deal with it. This little rat needs to get a head start..." Another chuckle escaped him. "...then she, her employer and I will...talk."

Anna, despite her efforts not to, shivered.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, my little panda._


	7. Chapter 7

It took a while to reach the Hinterlands when travelling from Haven.

Anna did not appreciate that. It gave her too much time to herself, too much time to think, too much time to _feel_.

_Maker, what am I doing_? _I_..._I was just going to do some diplomacy, father barely let me go at all and now I've sworn my service to an organisation taken out of legend to fight demons and take on the famed Templar order and fireball-throwing Mages. I can't do that_!_ That's insane_! _Not even the Divine succeeded making peace and I'm supposed to do it while fighting creatures forged by our every nightmare_!?

Sitting very still on her horse, Anna felt the beast snort and hesitate, unsure what the rider wanted. It was intelligent enough to follow the other mounts as the small group continued on though, encouraged by the way the snow was making way for green pastures and cliffs to trees as they descended upon the hinterlands.

_Andraste must have been mistaken, she couldn't have chosen me, that's __insane_. _I'm not worthy_! _I'm impulsive_!_ I'm clumsy_! _I'm_ _stubborn_! _I'm awkward_! _I'm ugly_! _I'm quick to anger! I'm no hero like Hawke or the Hero of Ferelden_! _I'm not even __close__ to being a holy woman like Andraste_! _I barely deserve the Maker's light, never mind his blessing_! _There __has__ to have been a mistake_!

Next to her, Varric rode up on a short but strong-looking horse, one used for burdens, not war. The man was clearly no rider, but didn't seem too bothered by his clumsy bouncing on the saddle as he turned a smile to her. "As you know, I knew the Champion of Kirkwall quite well.." Anna straightened, making the man chuckle. "...yeah, I know, everyone does. Anyway, he admitted to me that he often felt unsure what to do, especially in new situations. But if you _act_ confident, you _get_ confident...he convinced everyone of that, even himself...that's all there is to it, really. He _made_ himself confident in himself, he wasn't born with it."

Anna nodded, licked her lips, then looked away for a moment to nod again._ Like with commoners, act your rank or they won't respect it_... She turned her head back to the dwarf, smiling, unsure. "How did you...?"

"Oh please, a storyteller has to be able to read his crowd, and your face is like an open book to me. That says a lot about you..." Varric smiled, raising his hands at Anna's worried look "Only good things!"

"Okay...I..." Anna found her shoulders slump and nodded, looking ahead as she took a deep breath. "Okay."

Ahead, Cassandra, who also had been riding in silence the entire way, reined in her horse at the base of an incline. Above, the gently sloping hill, Anna could spot a few sharpened stakes and the smoke from a fire, though there was little sign of movement. Cassandra didn't seem worried though as she dismounted, her voice clipped. "We're here."

"That you are, and not a moment too soon." A rustle, and a bush at the base of the hill opened like a flower, a dwarven woman in leather and chain-mail stepping out at the head of two humans in green cloaks, all carrying lowered bows. "I've been waiting for instructions for days now, expected a raven, not the Seeker in person." She turned her head to the men. "Take their horses." Looking back to the dismounting group, the dwarf's gaze fixed itself on Anna, though her question was directed at Cassandra, tone betraying disbelief. "Is this...?"

"Yes." Cassandra replied, turning to look back to Anna, gaze almost as curious as the dwarf's, not yet sure what to make of the other woman. "This is the Herald of Andraste."

The dwarf stepped forward, unsure even as her underlings hurried past her to take the reins of the horses with lowered gazes. The woman didn't avoid looking at Anna though, rather, she was _staring_.

Anna, shifting her feet where she stood, hated it, knowing she was far from the ideal, in fact, she didn't even have the _armour_ to look like some saviour, never mind a noble. She hadn't been able to stand the chain-mail she'd been thrown before, and so had opted for a set of hard-boiled leather, the sturdy pieces almost like a lighter set of plate-armour in appearance if one excused the dull brown colour. She had a simple breastplate though, and the domed helmet of steel lacked a visor and crest, but was at least sporting some decorations on the edges. She'd gotten rid of the claymore, but the slimmer longsword she'd exchanged it for was as simple as it got, steel, crossguard notched from use and without any decorations whatsoever.

In short, she looked like a simple soldier.

Varric's words about confidence were little help at the moment. Unsure, Anna raised her hand in greeting, hating how unsure the dwarf's gaze was making her. "H-hi?"

The woman's gaze shifted, from Anna's face to her raised hand, to her _palm_. Slowly, the dwarf's eyes widened at the sight of the large white mark, making Anna grimace, her other hand already moving to fiddle with the gloves tucked into her belt. Meanwhile, the dwarf bowed and moved a closed fist over her chest, her tone formal. "Your Worship, welcome. I am captain Harding of the Inquisition scouts, it is an honour."

Anna grimaced. _This worshipping will get old real fast_..._can't they see I'm not the one to honour, but rather Andraste_? "The honour is mine, I hear you've done good work here." She moved forward, offering her right hand as she swiftly lowered her left.

Harding snorted. "Heard from whom? We've done nothing but assess the situation, or the mess, more like." She took Anna's hand firmly, then seemed to remember who she was shaking hands with and bowed her head while taking a respectful step backwards, hands suddenly behind her back, making Anna inwardly sigh. "You'd better come with me, your Worship."

Surprisingly, Harding didn't turn and steer for the hill upon which the others were leading the horses. Instead she turned to a small forest path Anna hadn't even spotted, walking onto it as surely as a Dalish, the dwarf motioned the others to follow. Varric was the first to obey, the man grinning at the back of Harding's head as he spoke. "Harding, eh? Ever been to Kirkwall?"

"What? No, why would I? That place was a dump even _before_ it got a pair of large holes in it." Harding replied without turning to notice Varric's grimace. "Anyway, we'd better get a move on, things have been heating up these last few hours, the templars and mages are increasing the stakes. There's a lot of killing going around..."

"So soon?" Solas had been quiet until now, the elf seemingly preferring the silence, but now that he did speak, it was with sharply aimed words. His tone didn't express surprise though, rather a hint of anger. "The ashes from the conclave have barely cooled and they are already back at each others throats?"

"Agreed." Anna nodded, the war had already been senseless enough to start with, to pick it up with such speed after the catastrophe that had occurred was nigh on heresy. "Also, I thought a large group of mages were holed up in Redcliffe while the Templars were for the moment focusing on Orlais and the Free Marches? Why would the mages leave the safety of the town to fight it out in the open? Or the templars shift their focus?"

"_Here_, the fighting never stopped." Harding grumbled. "Ferelden is full of wilderness and forests, there's always been a lot of apostates here. Plus, mages got some liberties thanks to their aid during the blight, give a prisoner a taste of freedom and they'll want more and all that.." Harding sighed. "So we have apostates and many rogue mages all drunk on power and the thought of actually being fully free on one side, and on the other..." Another sigh, followed by a bitter chuckle.

"And on the other?" Anna pressed, confused. Around them, the forest was full of life, chirping birds and the warm sun...yet somehow, there was a chill in the wind and the scent of ashes in the air.

"Look, I don't know templars as well as the Seeker here, but if you give someone a lot of power, they'll use it, and _some_...they'll _enjoy_ using it. Now, take that power away, or rather, tell them that they can't use it anymore and they'll throw a fit." Harding shrugged. "I've seen enough of the fighting here, these aren't the templars under Lucius Corin, the Lord Seeker doesn't seem to even _know_ of them. They're thugs, brutes who barely deserved their armour in the first place who like killing and hurting people, they don't care if they're mages or not."

"They've sworn an oath..." Anna muttered, eyes widening. She had thought there was too much public empathy for the rebellious mages, but she could at least _understand_ their actions. The Templars though...they had sworn holy oaths, they had made sacred pledges and were as much part of the Chantry as a Grand cleric. To rebel had been bad enough, but the idea of them targeting anything but mages left a sick anger to linger in her stomach. "We will stop them, Harding, all of them."

"We will?" The dwarf looked back, uncertain, then smiled at whatever she saw in Anna's face. "After all I've seen...I'd like that."

"That is our objective, yes." Cassandra dryly pointed out. "Ideally, we'll stop them with a minimum of fighting, but given your recent reports, I doubt that'll be possible."

"We _will_ stop them, one way or the other." Anna growled, making Harding and Cassandra both look back, the former with a smile, the later with surprise.

Before any could reply, a man in a green cloak, his armour a patchwork of leather and thick cloth, appeared through the under brush. His steps were quick as he slid to a stop before them, his salute sloppy and his eyes wide. "Captain, I-" His gaze darted to the others with confusion, then back to Harding as the dwarf snapped her fingers at him. "I...it's the Crossroads, the village, it's burning."

"Burning!?" Anna repeated, confused, eyes wide.

"The two sides have been circling it for ages, it's right in the middle of the Hinterlands, giving access to everywhere else, it's a wonder they haven't fought over it yet." Harding grunted, then turned to the scout. "I guess it's too much to hope for that the people got out in time?"

The man rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing.

"I see." Harding growled. "Well what are we waiting for?"

Suddenly, the little woman broke into a jog, making the others stare. Anna had already anticipated it though and although her feet were not as adjusted to the difficult terrain as Harding, her long-legged strides easily kept pace with the head scout. As such, Anna and Harding were the first to reach the hill surrounded by trees and shrubbery. Across it and to each side of it, Anna could see figures in green and brown huddle low, bows, crossbows and a variety of swords and axes held ready, eyes staring straight ahead.

Following their eyes, Anna looked down at the valley below.

The village was classical Ferelden, a modest chantry at the centre, surrounded by sturdy wooden houses spread out over a large area with plenty of open areas within. There was also an old-looking palisade around it, built against either Chasind raiders or the Blight ten years ago, though by now there was little left of. To the east, to Anna's left, behind a number of hills and houses, a gatehouse had been collapsed alongside a section of wall. Closer to her, an even larger section had been reduced to ash.

It was to that point Anna's gaze was drawn, and the sight chilled her blood.

The palisade was not only ash, but among it lay bodies, some burnt to nothing but smouldering skeletons. Others looked like the bodies at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, twisted figures, faces distorted into grimaces of agony as their flesh clung to to their bodies like melted wax.

And beyond that...ten men and women in robes and carrying staves facing a large crowd of villagers. The farmers were outnumbering the mages by at least six to one, and were armed at that with hatchets, spears and cudgels. Yet _despite_ this, the mages had formed a semi-circle around them and it was the villagers who cowered in fear as the mages grinned, cruel and eager smiles illuminated by the glow of their staves and palms as they crackled with barely contained magic.

A large man, arms thick enough to wield his large sledge with ease, was trembling as he shook his head at whatever the leader of the mages was saying. The short and stick-thin elf, a woman who might have been pretty if not for the blood splashed over her robe and the vicious grin on her face. Despite the difference in size, it was the man that cowered before the mage, his eyes wide in terror as he meekly protested whatever she was growling at him.

The elf was pointing ahead, back towards the village, the hand on her staff glowing brighter as the man shook his head and cried out another protest, the others at his back also shaking their heads, most weeping in terror.

"I thought both sides were in there, soldier?" Harding spoke in the background, tone critical.

"They entered from the other side, Serah, I think they pushed the mages out of the town centre, by the looks of things."

Anna didn't look away from the scene. She watched the large man fall on his knees, watched him beg with open palms...and then saw the elf strike out with a staff edged with a blade of ice. _No_! Anna rose straight.

The man clutched at his throat, blood welling out of his larynx, mouth moving in a feeble attempt to speak as the rest of the villagers shirked back...and then he fell onto his side, dead.

Behind her, Cassandra was speaking with heat. "We must stop them, _now_."

"Yes, but perhaps a plan is needed?" Solas questioned. "I've heard urban combat can be risky."

The mage held out a palm, crimson lights flickering across it...and the blood pouring from the man's corpse rose into the air. _No_...

Anna drew her sword.

Weaving her staff around, the elf turned the gobbets of blood into arrow-shaped shards of blackness, all pointing at the crowd of villagers. Her command was harsh and quick, her staff pointing straight ahead, back towards the town.

Reluctantly, trembling, the villagers turned around to face the village...just as there was a flash of silvery armour as the templars appeared.

Screaming in terror, the villagers surged forward, rushing at the force of templars appearing around a corner. Though half the numbers of the villagers, the templars were clad in their distinct plate armour, their weapons of finest steel and make. To Anna's horror, they didn't even hesitate, the first villager to reach them had her arm cut off at the elbow, the second had his face smashed apart by a shield's buckler and was then disembowelled.

Behind Anna, those too busy to speak didn't seem to notice, too busy to think, to not _act_. Cassandra, though sighing reluctantly, was agreeing with Solas. "Agreed, I suppose, we should move up to the breach and then have the best warriors at the front while archers and-"

Behind Anna, Varric's voice was tinged with amusement. "Not to interrupt...but Anna is running down there."

Cassandra's shout echoed after her. "_What_!?"

The Templars were by now hacking away at the villagers in abandon, cutting them down like wheat before the scythe...and didn't even look up as the mages behind their attackers let loose. First, their leader sent the arrows of corrupted blood forth, dozens of the tainted missiles slicing through flesh and armour with equal ease, cutting through villager and templar alike. Then the rest let loose, a pair of flashes of lightning arcing through warriors and peasants, ice freezing terrified villager and butchering templar alike, then fire smashing and melting flesh, steel and bone.

_NO_!

Anna, breathing quickly, her blood thundering in her ears, ran for all she was worth, only slowing her rush into a more controlled charge once she was ten feet away.

Behind her, there was a curse and Cassandra's shout. "Inquisition, forward!"

The elf mage was turning, her smirk freezing on her lips as she saw Anna rush at her. Anna raised her sword high, feet kicking like mad as the distance shrank. Ahead, the elf raised her staff to block...and Anna rushed past her left, her overhand blow turning into a horizontal slash as she with a roar drove all her rage into her muscles for the blow.

The blade cut through cloth, skin, flesh and bone alike, spraying blood across the charred grass as the stick-thin elf was bisected, her torso and legs now only attached by a string of bloody intestines.

Turning, Anna glared at the closest mage to her right, a broad-shouldered man with eyes wide as saucers as he saw his leader literally get cut in half. Anna raised her sword for another blow, then rushed in as he raised his crackling staff for a block and to unleash what looked like lightning. Anna let her blade crash into his staff, then crashed straight into him, her left foot coming up behind his ankle as she let her momentum and a twist of her hips push him backwards, tripping him onto his back.

The man, stunned, the magic on his fingertips fizzling, didn't even see the blow when she brought her blade down, cutting his throat and the arteries surrounding it in a more controlled fashion than her initial kill.

Behind her and in front of her, mages were turning, eyes wide in panic, their confidence shattered.

One raised his staff though, pointing it at Anna as a glow of blue energy formed around the tip...and then fell, a black-coloured arrow lodged in his neck. He reached for it for but a moment, then fell still. Even as he did so, the rest were turning to face the rest of the onslaught, a ray of shimmering energy appearing in front of their raised palms as a dozen arrows and bolts clattered against the near invisible barrier.

Then Anna felt the temperature drop, like someone has just slid an ice cube across her skin...and the mages around her staggered, one emptying his guts all over his robe as another moaned and clutched her head. A moment after, fire burst from the ground below them, making them shriek and whirl as they staggered away

Behind her though...Anna whirled about, sensing the danger. She saw a mage rush at her, flames bursting from his staff...and then the shot of fire went wide as a crossbow-bolt struck the staff, sending the burst of fire harmlessly into the ground before another shot thudded into the cursing mage's mouth. Those behind him, two pale-looking mages, turned to run, only for a volley of arrows to thud into their backs.

Anna couldn't help but glance up, watching the scouts of the Inquisition advance in a skirmish formation, Harding at the tip with another black-coloured arrow notched and ready and a grim smile on her face. Next to her though, Cassandra looked like a thundercloud, with Solas brushing off a burning cinder from his staff with an annoyed look. Varric, on the other hand, was chuckling while reloading his crossbow, making Anna give both him and Harding a thankful nod.

There was little time for praise though, turning around, Anna found there to still be a templar standing in the carnage wrought by the mages. The man was as tall as her, the two-handed axe in his hands decorated with inlays of bronze...and now covered in dark blood as he tugged it free from a woman's skull with a chuckle, the eyes under the t-shaped visor of his helmet wide with glee.

Anna didn't know what disgusted her more, the mages hurling the villagers at the templars or this one enjoying slaughtering them even without a care for his comrades.

She cried out, and charged.

Behind her, someone shouted at her to stop, to wait.

She couldn't do that though, not after having seen such brutality.

The templar, to her surprise, assumed a sloppy defensive stance, his legs too far apart and the axe held back too far. _Thug barely deserving his armour_..._Harding was right_. Anna, legs pumping in short but quick strides, closed the distance swiftly as she leant forward and swung her sword from left to right before ducking her head back.

Her foe was not the elite the templars were supposed to be. His stance too wide to allow him to move his leg away and he didn't even try to twist it to meet the blow with the plate over his knee, instead he gasped in pain as Anna's blow struck at the chain-mail covering the inside of his knee just behind the rim of his greave. In return his swing, too wide and telegraphed, struck nothing but air as Anna used her reach and footwork to easily keep out of reach of his shorter weapon.

Growling, the man reversed the axe and rushed forward, swinging wide yet again. Anna ducked under the blow as she tried to thrust as the weaker chain-mail protecting her foe's crotch, only to strike a bit too high and have the blade harmlessly slide across the man's breastplate as she danced away, legs swiftly bringing her out of reach from her clumsier opponent as she circled him.

The templar, growling a curse under his breath, turned to face her, apparently not used to his target moving sideways. _Too used to them cowering in fear, too used not to have someone trained fight back, you filth_! Anna feinted a low blow at the man's other side, then, as he lowered his axe to block, she let her blade dart out in a quick blow to his turning side, the blade skimming across his helmet with a screech even as Anna darted back, out of reach of any riposte.

The man, eyes flashing in annoyance, let lose a roar, perhaps intending to intimidate the grim-looking Anna...and rushed in swinging.

This time Anna didn't dart away or evade, this time she met him head on.

Her left hand shot up, grabbing the blade of her longsword halfway up as she raised the weapon horizontally next to her head, parrying the axe just under the heavy head, locking her blade under its haft and the curve of its blade. She drove forward, shoulder crashing into shoulder, the leather keeping the impact with his pauldron from turning painful as she with her extra control over the blade thrust it through the visor of her enemy.

The templar went rigid, then screamed as the pain of his eye being turned to mush pierced his shocked senses. Anna followed when he tried to back away though, her right leg kicking up so her shank slammed into his chest. He tumbled onto his back, Anna's leg followed, foot coming down firmly onto his breastplate as her left hand shot up to grab the pommel of her sword before she put her weight onto it.

With a crack, the blade punched through the skull behind the templar's eye and into his brain.

He stopped screaming.

Anna, breathing heavily, stared down at him, not sure she saw right.

She had just killed a templar.

_No, not a templar_. Anna looked around, at the dead villagers...and her disbelief faded like fog before the light._ A lowlife, bandit, no better than the apostates he fights_. She looked up, feeling her heart slow as her breathing returned to normal, her hours upon hours of training back home taking effect. _Is this your will, Andraste_? _For me to stop these monsters_?_ Armour or robe, any who hurt those we nobles have been chosen to protect_? _Do I have your blessing to do this, or am I misusing the chance you've given me_?

The answer came with the wind, the cry of a child ahead, and then the mother's, terrified.

_Thy will be done_.

Anna pulled her sword free and turned to the others as they approached. At the head, Cassandra was marching, fists clenched tight, her face one of rage. "Herald! You are too valuable to simply-!"

"Come on!" Anna had no time to listen, instead she fixed her gaze on those behind Cassandra, on the men and women staring at her, hesitant, unsure of what to do. Anna smiled at them, surety of purpose suffusing her as adrenaline pumped into her veins. "Follow me! For the Maker and His light, forward!"

Turning, Anna began to run forward, into the village.

Behind her, Cassandra raised her voice to protest, only to be droned out by the roar of the scouts as they too surged forth.

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for my angelpie._


	8. Chapter 8

Anna marched forward, face grim, sword held close to her...and then found herself outpaced by Cassandra, the woman shooting her a glare while keeping her shield high. "You stay behind me, _Herald_."

Anna frowned back and widened her strides, coming up to the left of the Seeker. "No."

Cassandra's growl turned low as the men and women behind them shuffled forward, into the village proper. "As Josephine pointed out, you are the _only_ one who can seal breaches in the veil and as such-"

"I will _not_ stay back like a delicate flower, Cassandra. Andraste herself fought in the front line of her war, and I was chosen _by_ her, how could I do anything less?" Anna kept her gaze focused ahead, eyeing the area ahead warily. On each side, the houses of the village rose, some smouldering with embers, others gaping open, porches stained with blood. The sight of it all drove Anna forward, the fear of death and injury turned minuscule against the righteous fury. "She did not choose me just to fate me to die at the hands of some thugs, have faith."

Cassandra's reply was a grunt, but one tinged with amusement and approval. "Very well."

Then, out of a larger house, a little boy came running, clutching a bleeding shoulder he was too blinded by tears and pain to even see the ones he was running into and smashed right into Anna, knocking himself over in the process. Blinking, looking up, he saw Anna, and his eyes bulged as a scream of terror escaped his bruised lips.

Instantly, Anna was on one knee, one hand coming down on his chest to still him, smile gentle. "We are not here to hurt you. You are safe." The boy's scream ended, his eyes betraying confusion even as he coughed...and then he turned his gaze back towards where he came from, towards the numerous templars running into view before coming to a surprised halt at the sight of those before them. Anna, now also looking at them, rose back to her feet, voice a low growl. "We're here to hurt _them_."

Before she could act, however, Solas moved to stand to her left, staff thrust out like a spear at the templars. As one, the warriors raised shields or stood to brace against the impact, their powers no doubt ready to push the magic aside.

Instead, the ball of fire struck the house to their left, the explosion ripping apart the already damaged structure and raining down burning debris on the stunned templars.

Not done yet, Solas spun his staff above his head before jamming the end into the ground, causing a wall of fire to push up through the ground just in front of the templars. His shout, clear and unafraid, echoed through the street. "Harding, now!"

With a flurry of humming bowstrings and the swishing sound of bolts leaving the groove of their crossbows, the Inquisition scouts let loose their missiles onto the befuddled templars. Some arrows even lit on fire as they pushed through Solas' barrier, making a struck templar shriek as the cloak she wore was set alight. Though heavily armoured, the distance was small, and so several templars, too blinded by the fire to see the missiles, fell.

Then the first templar acted, roaring, he leapt through the fire, the flames parting before him like water before a ship as he raised his great-sword high and headed straight for Solas.

Cassandra was there before the templar had even taken more than a few steps away from the fire. The man turned, and moved to swing at her, only for her shield to strike out, the central buckler smashing the man square in the face as the rest of the rectangular shield slammed into his arms, stopping his strike before it even started. The templar staggered back as Cassandra went to one knee, her sword darting in under her shield, then under her foe's breastplate, before coming out alongside a jet of blood.

Gasping, the templar's left hand shot down in a vain attempt to stop the stream of blood, his right clumsily swinging the sword that was all too big to be wielded in one hand at Cassandra's head. Her shield met the swing, driving the blade into the ground even as her sword hacked down on the exposed forearm of her foe. The chain mail and leather there held, but the man still cried out in agony and dropped the weapon...and then fell as Cassandra's reverse blow saw her pommel smash into the man's helmet.

He didn't rise, the blood welling from his initial wound puddling around him.

Anna, a second too slow to help, instead found herself confronting another great sword wielding templar. The man had been aiming a thrust at Cassandra as he came through the fire, but now he redirected it at Anna's exposed face as the two rushed in upon one another.

Ducking as she ran, Anna felt the blade of her foe slide along the top of her helmet. Then she slammed shoulder-first into her opponent's stomach, her left hand shooting up to grab hold of her blade, turning it into a lever that she hooked behind her opponent's back. A twist as she rose, and Anna threw the templar over her back and onto his as gravity and leverage worked against him.

There was no time to turn and attack him further though. Ahead, through the fires and the screams of templars falling as more and more bolts and arrows hurtled into them, a third templar jumped forth, hefting a shield and spiked mace in her hands. Anna's hand slid back to her he sword's grip as she turned back forward, swinging low as she ducked, making herself small to the templar that was already confused and semi-blinded from the fire.

With a crunch the blade struck the back of the woman's right knee, making her cry out and drop onto it, eyes wide with pain. "Behind you!" Cassandra's shout was punctuated by her rushing the kneeling templar.

Spinning, Anna's sword shot up, parrying the great sword coming down at her as the templar growled and pressed himself closer, as if trying to push her over with his weight and his sword. Grunting back, Anna twisted her sword, making her crossguard smash into the visor of her enemy. Dazed, he stumbled back...and then fell onto both knees as two crossbow-bolts in quick succession slammed into his back. Anna raised her blade for the finishing blow, but there was no need as a boulder, held aloft by a shimmering green light that made her left hand tingle, slammed into the templar's helmet with a crunch of breaking bones and shattering teeth.

Turning back, Anna found her assistance not needed by Cassandra either as the woman easily ignored the feeble blows to her mail-clad legs by the kneeling templar as she grimly drove her sword deep into the neck and then chest of the templar as the blade travelled further.

And in the background, the wall of fire was dying out, revealing nine more bodies, bolts and arrows lodged in their bodies, the crossbow-bolts in particular having punched in deep, one even having gone square through the breastplate of a surprised-looking corpse.

Snivelling, the boy that had bumped into them rose onto one knee. "Thank you." It was but a whisper, and then he was running away, towards the forest and away from the village.

No one had the heart to stop him.

Anna felt herself smiling though. They'd just saved someone, they had just stopped evil men and women, they had just done Andraste's will...and they had done so in impressive fashion. Ahead, Cassandra was looking back at her, meeting her smile with a nod, and behind her, Solas and Varric offered pleased smiles. Even Harding and her scouts seemed happy, proud. _Blessed are the peace-keepers, the champions of the just_..._yes, blessed are we who can do such good_.

Then, another scream rose, closer, towards the centre of the town.

And Anna turned, sword raised and body trembling with eagerness. "Onwards!"

This time, not even Cassandra or Solas protested.

8

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8

The village centre was the scene of some nightmare.

Fires were raging from several houses, thatched roofs crackling as waves of flames rose up towards the sky. Others, their doors smashed open and blood pooling out through the doorway, looked like open mouths with lolling tongues.

Bodies littered the ground. Some wearing the robes of mages, others the clothes of simple farmers. A few were moving, clawing their way forward as they moaned in pain...and the few templars standing among them moved after, cutting the wounded down without hesitation.

Anna, stunned, could do nothing but stare._ Did the villagers fight them_? _Forced by the mages_? _Or did they just get in the way_?

A woman, shrieking and kicking at the air was clutching at her scalp as a templar dragged her out of her burning house by her hair. The templar leant down, kissed her, then threw her into the mud and blood next to a headless man, kicked her in the stomach and raised his blade...

_Does it matter_?

Roaring, Anna surged forth. The man turned, cruel eyes flashing. His helmet was off, and so Anna's blade struck on instinct.

With a wail, the man fell to his knees, clutching at the wound that has cut open both his eyes and left his nose hanging from the cartilage at the tip. The woman, shrieking, launched herself at the blinded templar, bowling him over and wildly flailing at him.

The other templars striding among the bodies looked up in surprise...and then two fell, one's open mouth now sprouting a black arrow, another with her neck spurting blood as she feebly clutched at the crossbow-bolt that had punched through the chain mail covering it.

It turned into chaos. Urged on by Anna's charge, the Inquisition scouts surged forth, bows and crossbows shooting at point blank into the outnumbered templars. One raised her shield in time to make three arrows lodge themselves in the wood, met the charge of an axe-armed scout and knocked him over with her shield before being hacked down by two more scouts circling her.

A templar, roaring at the sight of Solas' staff, rushed at the apostate, only to stagger as the elf slammed his staff into the ground, making the ground under the warrior's feet rise and heave like a tiny earthquake. The templar still managed to advance though...until the staff once more shot out, the end slamming square into the templar's face and bowling him over. Before the dazed templar could act, Varric moved next to him and casually put a bolt through his visor.

Then the chaos intensified as templars, their blades dripping with blood, appeared from several of the houses surrounding the massacre of their brethren. Crying out, these men and women also launched themselves forward.

Anna, throwing her head around, watched a scout raise her bow to take aim at someone further away, only for a templar just out of her sight to come down with a mighty cleave from his longsword, severing bowstring and arm alike. Anna moved to help...and then felt herself stumble as Cassandra crashed into her, raised shield parrying a massive axe arcing for Anna's head. " Herald! With me!"

Obeying on instinct, sensing the other woman knew what she was doing, Anna whirled around in time to see Cassandra step to the left, shield thrusting back and forth at the templar, keeping him guessing where her sword was. Growling, the man hacked at the shield, then cursed as he quickly moved his axe to block her thrusting sword going for his face.

Anna, surging to his right, grit her teeth and lunged at his flank, only to have the blade slide off the haft of his axe as the man turned with a surprisingly deft parry. That was all the time Cassandra needed though and she pressed in close, sword stabbing in under the man's armpit with a crunch, making him curse, then cough as he fell onto his back, blood spewing from his mouth.

Another templar was on Cassandra in moments though, shield slamming into Cassandra's, making the woman take a step back as the templar swung her mace in a deadly arc at the Seeker's head, only for the blow to skim Cassandra's breastplate as she leant backwards. Instantly, Cassandra counter-attacked, driving the templar back two steps before her sword slammed deep into the templar's cracked shield, lodging itself tight into the wood._ Damn it_!

"Cassandra, duck!" Rushing forward, Anna swung...and felt relief course through her as Cassandra not only ducked, but almost seemed to fall down, her blade dragging down the templar's shield with it. The templar, mace raised for a strike, looked up in shock and instinctively started pulling her head back against the coming slash...and Anna let the swing continue for just the right time, then pushed a leg forward in a wide lunge, turning it into a thrust.

With a gasp, the templar's hand shot up to clutch at the blade now lodged in her throat as it punched in under the rim of her helmet.

Below her, Cassandra gave voice to a low whistle even as her foot shot up, dislodging her sword from the templar's shield even as Anna wrenched her sword free and turned, scanning for new opponents.

It didn't look like she would be needed though. Two scouts had been killed and injured by the unexpected flanking, but what few templars remained to face their fury were either fleeing or falling to scouts coming at them from all angles.

Instinctively, Anna's head turned further, looking up to the building dominating the village, the one she hadn't had time to look to until now.

The Chantry stood on a small hill, the steps leading up to it covered in the blood of a slain templar, his head smashed to a pulp atop the topmost step. There, the door was sealed shut and a man stood before it. His black hair and beard was thick and with strays of grey, his armour a simple padded jacket and his hand held a hammer that looked more like a tool than a weapon. The large and round shield strapped to his arm was notched and cracked from many blows, ready to break, yet he remained standing before the closed door. A retired soldier, by the looks of him, and one not looking the least intimidated by the two templars circling him, despite them seemingly having been toying with him by now as he huffed with heavy breaths from what had to have been a long fight.

However, the changing fortunes for the templars below had occurred fast and bloody, and it was with eyes wide in surprise the templar trying to circle the soldier's right turned his head...

Instantly, the soldier was on him, shield pressed against his opponent's, pinning it fast as the broad-shouldered warrior pushed his weight into the startled templar. The hammer came down once, twice, _thrice_...and then the soldier took a step back and turned to face the remaining templar, shield ready and bloodied hammer raised high as his previous target fell onto one knee, blood pouring down from the T-shaped visor in his helmet.

The second templar stood frozen for a moment, staring at the soldier, then down to his dying friend slowly slumping lower and lower, then to the Inquisition troops butchering his comrades..and then back to the soldier steadily meeting his gaze.

Without a word the templar turned and ran.

And below, Anna found herself turning and raising her blade high, grinning. "Victory!"

And the man and women of the Inquisition responded with a roar that Anna felt through every fibre of her being.

8

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Harding was tending to her scouts, men and women sitting down to breathe out as the adrenaline poured out of them and they started to feel the aches and bruises.

Anna felt it too, like a deep weariness inside her very core. Yet at the same time, she felt invigorated, eager to proceed, to do Andraste's will. _Maker, guide my steps and make the victory worthwhile,__let life spring from death_. Marching up the steps to the Chantry, Anna sheathed her blade, making the wary soldier before the closed gate hesitate. Holding the gaze of his grey eyes, Anna smiled. "Thank you, soldier, you can stand down now, I'm with the Inquisition, and we're here to help." 

"I see...Inquisition, eh? I heard a rumour, but I wasn't sure you..." The man slowly put his hammer into a loop of his belt, eyeing Anna with curiosity. "You were the ones who stopped the Breach."

"We were." Anna confirmed, not really in the mood to explain further, especially her own role in it. "Is Mother Giselle in there? Open the door."

The man hesitated, then shrugged. "Err, sure, my lady." Raising his voice, he tapped the door with his free hand as the other slowly shrugged his shield off, the cracked wood shattering the moment it hit the ground. "Mother Giselle, it's safe to come out now."

"Thank the Maker!" A woman of heavy Orlesian accent cried out, followed by the relieved cheer of many others. With a grunt, a bar was removed behind the door which a moment later swung open.

With the sun on her back, Anna could see into a Chantry packed with people clutching children and belongings even as they struggled to shield their eyes from the sun. At the head of the large group, a woman with the skin of a Rivaini and the clothes of a Chantry Mother stood, her hand raised too as she tried to look out. Anna smiled at them. The woman, slowly lowering her hand as she stepped forward, stared at Anna. "Who are you?"

"I'm Anna Trevelyan, and I'm here to help."

"Also known as the Herald of Andraste, she who escaped the Fade and stopped the Breach from swallowing us all." Cassandra explained further as the woman stepped up next to her, giving Anna an approving pat on the back even as she turned her gaze to those assembled in the Chantry.

There, people exchanged looks, confusion written across their faces.

Then, one moved to kneel, followed by another.

_Maker, not again_... Sighing, Anna stepped forward, catching mother Giselle's hands in hers before the woman could follow suit. Instead, Anna was the one to kneel, bowing her head. "Mother, we need your help, if you will but listen to us."

"Child, you have rescued all these people, I'll do more than just listen." The Mother said, a smile in her voice as she tugged at Anna's hands, allowing her to rise. When she did, the dark-skinned mother had to crane her neck to look up at the noble, but she did so with an almost tenderly look on her face. "I'm guessing much has happened since the explosion we saw up at Haven, information has been scarce since then, and this violence has only made it worse. Tell me everything, and I will help in any way I can."

Anna, relieved at finding a member of the Chantry not calling for her head, smiled widely, despite knowing her smile wasn't the prettiest. "That's...more of a relief than you could know, thank you."

Meanwhile, behind her, there was an awkward shuffling, the soldier grunting. "Everything alright, Mother Giselle?"

The woman smiled past Anna, nodding. "Yes, thank you, Warden Blackwall, you are a true hero."

Anna blinked, then turned, staring at the man.

He was still an ageing man, still armoured in a filthy gambeson, still armed with a poor hammer, still had his shield in little pieces at his feet. He still looked old, poor and common. Cassandra too looked surprised, but not as perplexed as Anna felt, every tale about the fabled order turned upside down in an instant before her.

"_You're_ a Warden?" Anna breathed, eyes wide as saucers.

The man before her shifted where he stood. "That I am."

"I was sent to find you and...I..." Another question hung on Anna's lips, wanting to ask if the man was sure he _was_ a Warden, but she couldn't bring herself to be that rude. He looks so...common. "I'm sorry, Warden, I mistook you for a mere soldier."

"I _am_ a _mere_ soldier." The man replied with a hint of flint in his voice, then he shrugged. "I also happen to be a Warden, that's all."

"I...see." Anna hesitated, then swallowed her pride, knowing doing otherwise would be even more unfitting of her. She bowed, deeply. "Warden, I apologise, it was not my intention to offend."

"No need to bow to me, lass." The bearded man rumbled back. "Now, you were looking to find _me_? Why ever for?"

"It's a bit of a story..."

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_A thousand loving thanks to my little panda, Abydos Jackson._


	9. Chapter 9

Blackwall wasn't sure what he was doing, it was an all too common issue for him, he knew, but this time he felt he'd _really_ gotten in over the top of his head.

He'd offered his help, to an organisation of growing size, one guided by a man leading the best spy-network in Thedas. _I'm insane, I must be, truly insane_. Yet it was a growing trend with him, was it not? He'd thrown himself at darkspawn for _years_, battled bandits and defended travellers. It had only been natural to defend the crossroads from apostates and templars alike, despite knowing his chances of survival to be slim. For what was a Grey Warden but a promise to defend others? _Did I cover my tracks well enough_? _Did I hide well enough_? _Am I anonymous enough_?

There was nothing to do about it now though, nothing but to do but to go forward.

Still, it had been a good decision, if it wouldn't end up with him hanged. He was a good warrior, but alone against so many grave dangers he couldn't do enough, a dead protector was still dead, and protecting no one. The Inquisition, however...he had a good feeling about them.

The woman ostensibly leading was a curious thing though. She had grimaced when he'd pilfered a shield and mace from the dead templars, the young thing no doubt still idealising war in a way all young nobles did. _Shame no intact armour fitted me, although fighting looking just like a templar would be dangerous, I suppose_. She'd treated him as expected, nigh on ignoring him when she thought him a common soldier, then with great respect once his 'rank' had been revealed. She was like many nobles in that respect, but unlike the silk-wearing kind with mere disdain for the common, she at least seemed dedicated to their defence.

_Young, inexperienced, idealistic and brave_..._there are worse people to fight alongside_.

The company she kept was august though. _A seeker of truth, the fabled Cassandra Pentaghast no less, Varric Tethras the great storyteller and_..._not sure about that other fellow_. Blackwall shot the man crouching next to him a glance. He'd met his fair share of mages, even apostates, but this bald elf didn't look like the rest. He didn't shirk away and hide like some, nor did he look overly proud like some thinking they were the Maker's gift to Thedas...he carried himself like a warrior._ What are you_?

Ignoring Blackwall's gaze, Solas was looking down at the valley ahead. Blackwall had heard of the templars and apostates readying for battle further west, and had been pleased to find the Inquisition ready to interfere. If the battling factions could be brought to heel in that battle, the Hinterlands would be safe for the moment. The elf didn't seem to look at the two sides getting ready on each side of the valley though, his gaze distant as his lips finally moved. "The veil is thin here, we should be cautious."

"Noted." Cassandra grunted, the woman next to Anna looking ahead as grimly as Solas. "If it rips, we'll deal with that too." _Rips_? Blackwall had seen the Breach, but a _rift_...it was difficult to consider how it looked, never-mind _worked_. "But what of the templars? And the apostates?"

"We stop them." Anna was tall and grim, a giant of a woman, and looked like she could chew through stone at the moment.

Behind them, Harding chuckled in agreement with the simple statement. The little dwarfette was a tough one, and Blackwall found the scouts she lead surprisingly capable given how recent the Inquisition was supposed to be._ Some former bandits, maybe hunters and woodsmen and the tougher recruits wanting a challenge, yeah, I guess I shouldn't be surprised_. Blackwall liked the group, as far as he'd seen, they seemed to have...purpose.

"That might prove...rather tricky." Varric muttered, crouching behind a fallen tree and looking down at the valley below. He was cradling his curious-looking crossbow in one hand and was cocking his head to the side, giving an awkward smile even as he loaded it with bolt after bolt. "There's rather a lot of them down there." Blackwall blinked at the dwarf, none of his written works, even the tale of the Champion, had ever mentioned he himself fighting...

_Well, Blackwall, you sure know how to pick your company when you're not hiding_.

"Indeed, and...Maker, no, not again." Cassandra's mutter turned into a gasp, the imposing woman having stopped her movements as she with her spyglass watched the two forces. "Andraste, preserve me..."

"What? What do you see?" Anna shuffled closer, and Blackwall heard Solas sigh as the elf handed his spyglass to Varric. The dwarf merely looked through it for a second, then let loose a curse and handed it to Blackwall. Next to them, Anna was still looking though, as still as a statue.

Blackwall sighed. He'd seen every atrocity in war, there was nothing that could surprise him. Looking through the spyglass, he wasn't surprised once he turned it to the right of the field, to the mages' side. Anna's whisper was venomous. "More villagers." 

"Villagers, farmers, passing travellers and pilgrims." Blackwall nodded, grim. He wasn't surprised, and too old to get infuriated, but he'd sworn to himself that he'd protect others, and watching the many people bellow being herded to their deaths was still hard. Their hatchets and rakes would do little against the templar armour. "Lambs for the slaughter."

"Only monsters would do such a thing." Anna growled, her spyglass creaking as the woman gripped it tighter, still looking over at the deployed apostates.

"Monsters? Hardly. Desperate fools? Yes." As one, all turned to stare at Solas, unable to believe the words that had come out of his mouth. Anna's gaze in particular was one of pure loathing. The elf, shrugging, brushed it all aside. "Oh I'm sure there's the odd evil person down there, but these are not the actions of evil, but desperation. Consider the templars opposite them, more numerous, better equipped, their skills honed for fighting mages in particular. _All_ the advantages lie with the templars in a fight like this, to then expect the mages to feebly walk to their deaths is foolhardy. _Of course_ they will look for ways to even the fight, and _of course_ some of them will be distasteful."

"Well you don't have to tell me twice about that, I was at Kirkwall." Varric grunted, looking back to the valley with a pained frown. "Still doesn't make it easy to see again, all those innocents caught between a rock and a hard place..."

"Their excuses and reasoning does not interest me." Anna growled, looking back through the spyglass as she spoke through gritted teeth. "It's what they _do_ that matters."

"I agree." Cassandra grunted with a nod, before hesitating. "However, there's little we can do about this." The words made Anna lower the spyglass and look to her in shock, making the Seeker grimace as she gestured at the field. "Look at them. Four hundred templars? Maybe fifty mages and several hundred armed civilians held at staff-point? We are barely a hundred strong, what do you think happens if we move to try and stand between those two forces to force a peace? Or if we attack the mages? They're dead any way we cut it, and we'll die with them." She took a deep breath, her hard features showing a glimmer of anger, though, Blackwall thought, more with herself than anything else. "We should stay here and intervene only when we're strong enough."

"You...you can't be serious." Anna lowered her spyglass, staring at Cassandra as if she'd grown a second head. "You're a_ Seeker of truth_, you are bound by _oath_ to protect mankind from magic..." There was a hint of growing anger in the woman's shocked words.

Cassandra shook her head and crossed her arms over her shoulders, tone certain. "I am, I'm _not_ sworn to get myself or those in my charge killed without saving anyone now or ever again, however."

"But...you...that's..." Anna started and stopped, her words faltering against Cassandra's words and posture, both equally indomitable. "You can't say that..." Cassandra didn't move a muscle, the Seeker meeting Anna's scornful look with a steady gaze. "_Fine_." With a snort, Anna turned and started drawing her sword. "I'll go myself then."

_What_? Blackwall stared in shock even as he heard Solas drawing a sharp breath to protest. Cassandra was nearer though, and faster, the woman's hand shooting out with the speed of a true swords-woman and grabbing hold of Anna's arm. Anna stopped, then turned her head, glaring at Cassandra. The other woman's gaze was still steady, as was her tone. "Do not make this difficult, Herald."

Anna was young, yet despite that, Blackwall barely noticed her swallowing as she steadily met Cassandra's gaze. "You might be the hero that saved the Divine, but you'll let me go..._now_."

Cassandra's grip remained though, and the two women's eyes narrowed more and more as the tension grew.

"Too late anyway." Varric's grunt made Blackwall breathe a sigh of relief. Before him, Cassandra belatedly let go of Anna even as the Herald herself hurriedly turned her gaze aside, a trickle of sweat running down her forehead even as she focused her gaze on Varric. Nodding at the horrified question in her eyes, he grimly nodded towards the valley. "It's begun."

Instantly, Anna was turning towards the battlefield, her hand moving to push the spyglass to her eye once more. Blackwall, realising he held the other glass, exchanged a sigh with Solas, the two both knew what he would see. Reluctantly, Blackwall moved the spyglass to his eye and looked back down onto the valley even as Anna gasped in horror.

The 'battle' was like nothing of the affairs Blackwall had seen in his life, _bandits_ had more organisation than the two groups below. There were no formations, no reserves, no commanders, no order. Instead he saw a sea of silver-armoured templars rush forward, some drawing bows to loose arrows at the horde before them. On the other side, the mages stood at the back, herding the civilians forward like cattle even as they hurled arcs of lightning and fireballs over their heads.

The first to reach close combat was a Templar on a horse. The woman crushed two villagers under the hooves of her horse, reined it in to hack through the head of a third...and then templar and horse tumbled over as the horde of hacking and slashing civilians tore her apart and clambered over the butchered horse and templar like a flood of ants.

Beyond them, several templars had fallen to the fireballs and bolts of lightning, the thugs were the worst of their order, and it showed in their poor discipline and protection from the spells. Yet nothing short of a dragon's breath would be enough to stop them, and they slammed into the villagers like a sword through soft flesh.

Blackwall hadn't expected any hesitation or mercy from the templars against such weak foes, and why should they? It was a battlefield, after all. Yet it was still horrible to see as slashing swords and axes cut through limbs and opened up torsos while shields and maces smashed and broke bones with every swing. It was hard to see with so many combatants, but given the difference in skill and arms, it was no surprise to see what almost seemed like a mist of blood rising from the line of civilians as the templars hacked through them with terrifying speed.

Heads, arms, legs, all were falling into the muddy ground alongside the slain. And from atop the hill, Blackwall could hear the screams, feel the tension grow among the scouts at their backs, feel Varric's mood drop like a rock, sense Anna's face turn red with rage even as Cassandra's turned grimmer and grimmer.

Then, Anna's voice cracked. "No...Maker no..." Trying to follow where she was looking with his spyglass, Blackwall saw it. In the back lines of the mages, an old man, his staff held by a subordinate as he with a bony hand held onto a young child, the other clutching a dagger. "Cassandra...it's the boy we saved, back at the village. They've found him and they're going to...no...no please no..."

Cassandra's face turned even grimmer, somehow, even as an enraged murmur travelled through the ranks behind them, followed by Harding barking for silence.

The boy struggled, nearly got free as he kicked at the old man's shin...and then fell onto his stomach as he was suddenly let go. The boy began to crawl through the mud, only to have the old man place a foot on his back as his gaze moved to the combat at the front, or rather, the _massacre_. The templars were cutting their way through the civilians against mages with little in the way of directly bombarding them with spells, and their shield of innocents were failing...

The movement was swift and sure. The man leant down, grabbed the boy's hair and pulled his head back, then slit his throat.

"No...!" Anna's cry was muffled, the woman's shoulders shaking as she stared at the scene through her spyglass. Blackwall, heart aching for the boy and all others who'd died, felt nothing but guilt as he forced himself to keep watching.

The blood from the slain boy curled around the dagger, turned a bright red...and then the mage gestured at the combat.

Blackwall's gaze widened in horror as there was a great explosion of gore and blood, the ground itself shaking with the impact from the seemingly small spell striking the combat. Through the spyglass, he saw a scene of nightmares as the slain villagers, lying all around the field, burst like ripe melons, their blood and innards shooting out like spears of black glass in all directions.

More than a hundred templars died instantly and _all_ the remaining civilians died, torn to ribbons by the jagged lines of hardened blood and gore shooting out from the bloodied ground like thorny bushes.

And on the other side, the mages opened up with even more spells. Fireballs, arcs of lightning and rays of frost pushing through this fence of foul magic to cut into templars hacking at the spell's result with desperation. Dozens more of the armoured figures fell even as only the odd mage fell, pierced by an arrow.

"I will not stand a witness, Cassandra." Anna growled, turning to glare at the Seeker. "Not for a _moment_ longer." Behind them, the scouts let loose a raged cheer, then gasped alongside their Herald.

Blackwall blinked, unable to really comprehend what he was seeing. Anna's hand, through glove and all, was _glowing_. A green, crackling light that illuminated her face as she raised it up, staring at it with wide eyes that were only slightly less disbelieving than Blackwall's own. _Touched by Andraste herself_? _I thought they meant figuratively_...

Next to them, Solas' voice was a low murmur. "The veil was weak, now it's torn. Herald, your services will be required."

Turning, Blackwall brought his spyglass to his eye to look down again, and once more found himself staring in disbelief.

The air between the two forces was..._shifting_. Like an orb of glass hovering in the air, bending the light around it, an orb that then shattered into fragments, the softly bending light turning into a shimmer. A _green_ shimmer. Pulsing like some sick heart, the rift in the air made all the combatants turn and stare.

As such, they didn't even see the first danger.

Templars, caught within the web of blackened blood caused by the mage's blood magic, hacked their way back, blood-soaked swords now swinging at their brothers and sisters as the eyes within their T-shaped visors blazed with unearthly power.

On the other side, a mage, arrow still in his chest, rose, feet not even touching the ground, fingers crackling. A moment later barrage of lightning-bolts smashed into the backs of the living mages, half a dozen falling dead in an instant as others screamed and dove for cover.

The battlefield, already a site of a massacre, turned into one of chaos.

And that was even before the shimmering rift throbbed, a bolt of green light striking the ground turning into a massive demon of brimstone, fire and rage.

Up on the hill, Anna turned to Cassandra, hands on her hips. "_Now_ can we go?"

Cassandra sighed, her face neutral as she drew her sword and gestured for Anna to lead the way.

The woman did so in seconds, sword drawn and steps wide.

Behind her, Cassandra turned and glared at the scouts rising to their feet, her glare hard. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"You heard the lady! For the Inquisition, forward!" Harding, bow in hand, waved her hand forward. Her scouts responded with a roar and surged forward. Blackwall, all too familiar with that feeling, stayed at the front though, the man already rushing forward before those in need of a motivation could. _Besides, up front I can shield any of those too anxious to fight_.

Below, the chaos was still going on. The templar that had died first during the battle was still on her horse, the beast somehow walking despite a sword being thrust through its skull. The templar herself, black blood pouring from dozens of crippling blows, moved with unnatural ease as she drove her horse into a mage and hacked through his raised arm.

The rage demon had a templar drive his sword through its gut before fastening its claws around his shoulders, making the man scream in agony even _before_ it ripped his now burning arms off, like the man was nothing but a flimsy toy.

More demons were pouring through the rift, a small figure wrapped in cloth shot through the air with a shriek, beam of white light escaping its palms, turning two running templars to ice. They were then smashed to pieces as a templar, warped to a great size and carrying a blade as black as night, hacked through them, the pale flesh under his cracked armour nothing but bone and muscle.

And at the forefront of the Inquisition, racing down like a madwoman, the Herald rushed forth.

_Brave, young, stupid_. Blackwall shook his head in disbelief, as far as he knew, Andraste might as well have been the same.

Ahead, the rage demon turned to face the new threat, the roar from it loud and dark as its hands shot out towards the woman. Next to Blackwall, a running Solas extended his hand, muttering something under his breath as a flicker of silver appeared in his eyes. _Well at least we have __one__ good mage on the field_.

Fire leapt from the demon's palms...and split before Anna, enveloping a dome of shimmering light that glowed like a sun once struck. Anna didn't even seem to notice it, murder in her eyes as she ran past the demon's right, her slashing blade smashing deep into its stomach before being drawn free, spilling boiling viscera from the large wound and doubling the much larger beast over. Anna's sword kept moving though, moving full circle over her head before descending on the creature, hacking the pointed snout from its head and sending it crashing to the ground where a last roar escaped it before it evaporated into a blast of fire.

Above, the demon of shrieks and cloth arced over Anna, blast freezing the ground behind the running woman as it attempted to strike her...and then its shot went wide as Varric launched a bolt into its back. The monster turned, shrieked, and then a black-painted arrow lodged itself into its chest, followed by another bolt, then another arrow, and a _third_ bolt...a whimper, and the creature faded away as Varric and Harding grunted, pleased.

"Scouts, suppress the mages!" Cassandra's shout was followed by a shower of arrows and bolts raining over the mages, some who were indeed turning their staves towards Anna and the Inquisition troops. Instead many fell while others scrambled back, their lust for blood turned into terror as they finally realised they were overwhelmed.

The woman herself somehow outpaced Blackwall just as a templar, eyes wide in terror, swung at Anna. The Herald, eyes fixed on the rift ahead, was thrown onto her back, cracked helmet flying as the great axe in the templar's hand came away with blood. A cry, and Cassandra barrelled into him, shield and sword striking in a frenzy, driving the man back as her own blade came away wet with blood.

Blackwall reached Anna, ready to offer a helping hand, only to find her back on her feet, the long blond braid swinging against her back as blood poured down her temple. "Are you-" Without pausing, the woman rushed onwards, bludgeoning aside a confused-looking templar rather than engaging him as she continued running for the rift in the air. "Never mind then." Blackwall, following, crashed into the templar and sent him to the ground with a quick blow to the knee, the mace crushing the kneecap under the armour. Ignoring the wails of his foe, Blackwall continued, realising all too well who needed protection at the moment.

Ahead, a row of creatures garbed in cloth and with their long arms ending in claws, poured from the rift and towards Anna...only to hiss and recoil as a wall of fire exploded in front of them, enveloping their rags in it and setting them alight.

Ignoring the flames though, the massive templar, impossibly large blade raised, strode through. _Revenant_. Blackwall had faced some demons in his time, but a Revenant was something of legend, unreal, unbelievable, unbeatable.

Anna rushed straight at it, then threw herself to her right as it swung at her, the woman nimbly rolling across the ground as the air above her parted before the massive blade. Rushing forth, she stabbed at the creature, only to have it turn with unnatural speed, turning her blade aside against what remained of the templar's armour as it raised the blade up for yet another strike.

Can't have that. With a grunt, Blackwall leapt forward, shield raised and angled. The blow was like it came head on from a sledge, making his knees tremble as he grit his teeth. But the Revenant's blade skidded aside, harmlessly passing over him and Anna even as he grunted. "Go, get it! I'm on this bugger!"

Anna muttered something under her breath, then continued on, running, the shimmer of light around her parting the fire as she leapt through it and headed towards the rift.

Behind her, the Revenant turned baleful eyes towards her back, free and reaching out...and then flinching as Blackwall stepped close and hammered into its knee with his mace.

As with the templar moments before, the Revenant's kneecap snapped under the blow. But this creature didn't fall, instead it turned its eyes to him, making him feel a cold shiver run down his spine as a hiss rattled out of its throat.

The beast swung its massive blade with one hand with ease, making Blackwall dart back to avoid the blow. He tried rushing forth for another blow the moment the blade passed, but could do nothing but jump back and curse as the creature's backhand blow came at him faster than he could blink. _Maker, what did I just challenge_!?

Its reach was beyond anything he'd ever faced, the creature swung, thrust and slashed, driving him back with ease. Blackwall was not the nimblest of fighters, relying on his skill with the shield to survive most fights...and now he found that to be a disadvantage as even the lightest of touches upon it was like a battering ram smashing into him.

There was no question of striking back, only to survive, only to _defend_.

Blackwall was good at that though.

Sidestep, shield angled up. Back, angle it down. Shield forward, tilt body left. Shield close to your chest, roll with the impact.

Step by step, the demon forced him back, step by step, it gouged and tore into his shield. Step by step, he remained alive.

Then, something happened.

Stopping, the Revenant turned its head. Blackwall, though usually knowing when to take advantage of a lapse in concentration, couldn't help but look past it. To watch Anna, feet wide apart, reaching up towards the rift, the light in her palm turning nearly white as it shot out and struck the rift.

With a crackle, the rift seemed to shift, inverting on its own axis in a way that made Blackwall's stomach turn.

Then, it swelled, tendrils of green light shooting out like tentacles of some foul beast.

The Revenant hissed, grasping at the light suddenly wrapped around its waist.

With a boom, the revenant, demons, even sickly green lights pulled out of the collapsing bodies of the dead templars and mages, and hurtled back into the rift.

The second boom was even louder, accompanied with the rift itself shattering, turning into little shards of green light that died away like the embers of a fire.

The battlefield, turned massacre, turned demonic chaos, was suddenly deathly silent.

Then, Anna turned, hand still raised, blood still trickling down her temple, eyes wide in disbelief.

And a random cheer exploded from Harding, followed by the other scouts.

Blackwall, chuckling, gave two claps of his hands, not really knowing what to think of what he'd just seen. _It's the stuff that would turn a man religious, that's for sure_. A brief glance around told him it was _exactly_ what was happening to many. Harding in particular looked amazed beyond words.

Blackwall's gaze was drawn to Solas though, the elf was smiling, pleased, but not excitedly so, at Anna. Noticing his gaze, the elf turned his gaze to Blackwall, the two veterans eyeing one another.

Remembering the way the apostate had shielded Anna with his spells, Blackwall offered a nod of respect.

To his relief, Solas returned the gesture even as Cassandra offered him a pat on the back. "Good work fighting that Revenant, Blackwall, you do your order proud."

Blackwall hid it well under his beard, but under it he felt the corners of his lips turn.

_Maybe this will work out after all_...

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, my angel._


	10. Chapter 10

Blackwall was cold, the waist-high water moving slowly around him as the river remained at ebb. Around him, men and women grunted, then gasped as Blackwall bellowed. "Alright, one, two and _heave_!"

He put his weight and muscles into the push, shoulder slamming hard into roughly hewn wood. Around him, men and women pushed into his back as grasping hands pulled from the other side and ropes went taught, pulling hard.

To the sound of slushing water, the wooden beam slumped into place.

Standing back, Blackwall smiled and nodded as those around him breathed a sigh of relief, a few tired chuckles escaping some as they looked to their handiwork. Blackwall, hands to his hips, breathing heavily as his soaked shirt clung to him, took two steps further back to look to their accomplishment.

Springvale river wasn't deep, but it was wide and the sand beneath was like a hungry giant, swallowing carts, horses and men attempting the crossing. Now the old bridge lay shattered by an errant spell and weighted planks had been placed upon the ground to allow the Inquisition troops to build a new one. The Hinterlands was on the verge of a new beginning, Blackwall could _feel_ it.

"Well done, lads and ladies." Blackwall grinned and nodded at the sight of the numerous beams of wood now erected across the cold water. "I do believe that's the last one. Who's up for a break?" Several groaned in delight and others gasped out their agreement, followed by chuckles of the few not too exhausted by the work. "Second team! You're up!"

From the shores a long groan rose from those resting upon it, making Blackwall chuckle as he turned and began to wade back up to land with the exhausted soldiers following, joking and taunting the other team as they passed each other. Reaching the shore, many of the soldiers collapsed to rest upon banks of grass. Blackwall continued on though, heading for a stack of barrels he'd turned into his little camp for the day.

Among them, the dwarf and the elf sat, the latter's gaze in the distance, the former's on Blackwall. He offered a quick smile, then drew a deep breath and cast his soaked shirt onto one barrel as he looked around himself, enjoying the sights of the Hinterlands. He wasn't good at small talk, or talking at all, but he found himself speaking up as he approached. "I've always liked Ferelden. It has a beauty to it, something, I don't know, spirited?"

The Hinterlands was a land of grey and green, valleys separated and surrounded by cliffs and forests. Around the road crossing the river, cliffs rose high, topped by trees almost as tall as them. And the valleys, while stained by ash and smoke, were still filled with seas of grass and fields of wheat. It was a wounded land, but one still of life and abundance.

"Land and people alike, if you ask me." Varric grunted, smirking at Blackwall even as he held out a small loaf of bread. "Fereldians stopped the blight on their own, you know, and another sent Qunari and templars alike running at Kirkwall."

"I'm well aware of what a storyteller you are, Tethras." Blackwall grunted, sitting down on a small barrel as he took the bread. "And how you knew the Champion of Kirkwall, fine stories." He shrugged. "And now you're with the Herald of Andraste? Is there another story in the making then?" He and Varric looked up at that, towards the road upon the cliffs to the south.

Anna was standing there, upon a cliff, together with Cassandra and Mother Giselle.

Unsurprisingly, given their noble lineages, they weren't helping with the building of the watchtower atop the hill, but Blackwall had to give credit where credit was due, they were improving the lives of the common people. There were few nobles such as them, even as he watched, Anna was eagerly pointing to another hill on which to build a tower as Cassandra and Giselle nodded in agreement.

_Who's in charge anyway_? Blackwall had asked, but there was little reply from the scouts or even Harding, their confusion mirroring his own. Cassandra held rank within the group, yet Anna was the Herald...clearly, there was an issue of rank among them.

"Friend, it seems you already know my heart." Varric chuckled, drawing Blackwall's gaze. "Already started." He patted the barrel next to him, revealing a small stack of papers with a quill on top. "I'm writing about the battle of the three armies, while it's still fresh in my mind."

"Battle?" Blackwall asked, then chuckled. "While dramatic, I wouldn't call that a _battle_. A few hundred on all sides? No command but blind charges? More of a dirty skirmish than a battle."

Varric grumbled and shook his head. "People don't read of skirmishes, Blackwall. You can't have the Hinterlands won in a series of skirmishes. No, it has to be an epic battle."

"Yet it was. The fight at the Crossroads village, the valley, even the assault on the rebel and templar camps to drive them all away. They were all skirmishes, ones where we found the advantage, bit by bit." Blackwall took a bite of the bread and chewed, breathing now even. "Battles are rare things, thank the Maker."

"So speaketh the veteran." Solas spoke, a hint of amusement in his voice as he blinked and turned away from whatever distant thing he'd been looking at. "I suppose I should not be surprised to hear of this from a _fabled_ Grey Warden."

"You sound like you yourself know of battle and war." Blackwall noted, not about to be drawn into a conversation about himself, nor liking the dismissive tone about the Wardens.

"I have seen much in my walkings of the fade. Memories and visions of war and slaughter on great scales." Blackwall arched an eyebrow, he knew little of the ways of mages, but none he'd met had spoken of such things. "I know of war and battle, yes, millenniums of them."

"Well, you've watched it from the sidelines." Varric noted, then raised his hands with a chuckle at Solas' piercing gaze. "Hey, it's the best place to be in if you ask me, safe from pointy things. Plus, watching things from the outside gives a different perspective." Then the dwarf turned back to Blackwall who was grasping a cup of water to remove the taste of stale bread. "Like watching you, Blackwall." _Oh bloody hell, of course the author is curious about the characters in his next best-seller_... "Was it just me or did you seem to enjoy that job with the bridge a lot? You even volunteered for it, when you didn't have to, did you not? It's not something I'd expect from a Grey Warden, I admit. No one's written a ballad about the building Warden."

Blackwall cocked his head to the side. "Well maybe they should?" A grunt, and he shrugged. "Look, it's _easy_ to destroy things, to ruin lives and break things. To _build_ something...it's harder, but it's bloody worth it."

"A worthy philosophy, but you've chosen a strange profession if you're going to build stuff." Varric chuckled.

_Careful now_... "A Warden defends the helpless and innocent, he takes the blow so another does not." Blackwall growled, looking down at the cup of water in his hands. "He preserves what would otherwise so easily be destroyed, and in so doing, he builds a better tomorrow." He took a deep drought from the drink, the cool drink taken from upriver, was like a cool balm, making him sigh in appreciation before he spoke again. "There is no greater 'profession' than a Warden, it's an honour and a privilege."

"Huh, well that's a nice sentiment." Varric noted with a nod, giving Blackwall a wary look. "Last Warden I met blew up half of Kirkwall..."

"I heard...well, _read_." Blackwall grimaced. "Some crazy mage living in self-imposed exile, wasn't he?" Blackwall shook his head. "Sad story that, the whole thing, at least the parts I read between the lines..." Varric nodded, seemingly pleased to hear someone noticing that, even if the topic wasn't to anyone's taste. "...but I wouldn't call him a Warden, not a true one." _And you're the paragon of all Wardens, right, Blackwall_? He grimaced and looked away.

Varric dramatically drew a breath of relief, wiping his forehead with the back of his hands, making Blackwall chuckle. Solas was looking at him though, curious and discriminative. "And what _is_ a true Warden? What defines them?"

"Didn't I just tell you that?" Blackwall grunted, annoyed. _Time to change the subject_. "So what's with your...what did you call her? Herald of Andraste? That trick with the rift was amazing, I grant you, but why the title...?"

"Surely you've heard all about it by now?" Solas asked, leaning on his staff as he regarded the soldier. "Rumour flies swifter than birds, as they say, and this one is on wings buffeted by winds from the Inquisition's finest. Also, you've been around the scouts for a few days now..."

"Yes, I've heard it all but, pardon me being a sceptic, while an Andrastian, I've met plenty of people claiming to be a prophet of her or the Maker in my life. The Chantry is quite good at disproving them, and as I hear it, they're set on doing the same to this one." Blackwall cocked his head to the side. "Did she really...? I mean, did you see...?" It was impossible to speak the words, they were too ludicrous.

"I saw." Varric nodded seriously, then looked away, down at the ground as a smile stole its way to his face. "Not often I'm unable to speak of something, or what it felt like." When he looked up, the dwarf's smile was faint, his eyes sad. "I've seen some shit you wouldn't believe, the worst in people times ten. I've seen creatures and horrors. I've seen the goodness in people too, acts of heroism, like little candles in the darkness." He licked his lips, gaze drawn up towards where the woman they spoke of stood. "But what I saw there...it was like seeing the sun rise."

_Damn_... Blackwall nodded mutedly, looking up to Anna with curiosity as a thoughtful hush descended upon the group. All he saw was a young woman, a little tall and gangly, and no classical beauty either. She was supposed to have something divine in her? It was hard to see._ At least she seems like a good person, as are those she's with, some who might change things for the better, that's rare enough nowadays_.

Solas was the first to break the spell that seemed to have fallen over them. "Was that _really_ you ' unable to speak of something'? I dread the thought of you going into minute detail."

Blackwall and Varric burst out laughing.

Next to them, the elf raised an eyebrow and offered a minute chuckle.

Shaking his head, Blackwall grinned. _Maker, I've missed people. It's been too long since I was among them as anything but the Warden defending them or a quiet stranger passing by_... "Well, then we'd better keep her alive, eh? Herald or no, I saw her bleed today."

"Which is where people like us come in." Varric grinned, patting that huge crossbow he carried with a tender hand. "I kept Hawke's backside free of enemies for years, I think I can do it for this lady too."And pardon the presumption, but I have a feeling you'll do something similar with that mace of yours."

_It's the shield that matters_. Before Blackwall could reply though, Solas spoke up, his tone neutral. "That's left to be seen, it largely depends on the answers our Warden here gives the Left Hand, no?"

Blackwall held back a shiver, the left hand was infamous, a dagger in the dark and a whisper in the night, as they liked to say. An interrogation sounded...unpleasant. Varric didn't seem too worried though, mostly curious, as he turned to Blackwall. "Yeah...tell us, what _did_ happen to the Wardens? Where did they go?"

Blackwall couldn't help it, his eyebrows shot up in surprise and confusion, his face betraying his heart. Still, he'd learnt to work with that by now and was quick to reply. "Go? I'm sorry, I haven't been in contact with command for...wow..._years_, I wasn't aware they'd gone _anywhere_." He hesitated, as always, the subject was a dangerous one. "What..have you heard?"

"Not much. Except that they disappeared shortly before the death of the Divine." Solas replied with a shrug. "Those in the north, around the Anderfels, have all retreated to their fortress at Weisshaupt and refuse to allow any entrance or to speak to them. As for those in Ferelden and Orlais...no one knows." The elf, inquisitive indeed, watched Blackwall's reaction closely.

Blackwall had none to give but disbelief. "I have...a hard time understanding why they'd do that." He shrugged, lies easily tumbling from his lips. "Anyway, perhaps they've sent an order out for me, but I simply haven't gotten it, the land is pretty chaotic nowadays, after all."

"Well the Left Hand will get disappointed, that's for sure." Varric chuckled and shook his head. "And _years_ away? What have you been doing all that time?"

"Recruiting, helping, killing darkspawn." Blackwall shrugged. "Order shifting depending on the situation." 

"What? For years?" Varric's eyebrows shot up.

Blackwall gave voice to a snort. "I'm a _Grey Warden Recruiter_, what else would I be doing?"

"I don't know...something more?" The dwarf made a hesitant gesture around them. "I mean even the Hero of Ferelden is said to have had some kind of life outside all the fighting."

"I'm a bit of a loner, sorry." Blackwall shrugged. "Remarkable woman, wasn't she though? Ever thought of writing her story like you did the Champion's? I hear you tell the tale, but a written work on it would be amazing, I'm sure."

"Plus a great recruitment poster, right?" Varric shot the soldier an amused look before rolling his eyes. "The story has been written by a dozen hacks already, and I sure didn't know the woman. Anders claimed to have worked with her for a time, but with him being all crazy and such, I wasn't about to take his word for her being a...ahem...'full-frontal bitch'."

"A shame he's dead." Blackwall's brows furrowed as his hand clenched tight around his cup. "I would have wanted to have _words_ with this fellow Warden about how we talk about the heroes of our order..."

"Meh, talking to him was dull. Mages this, mages that..." Varric waved it aside. "By the way, what were you doing during the Blight? Stuck in Orlais with the rest due to politics? Though...weren't you still on your own then?"

"Killing darkspawn." Blackwall grimly replied, not wanting to go into detail. _So many villages lost before I even got there_._ So little I could do_..._how did the Hero manage it_? I_ barely scratched the horde, she sliced through it again and again before the Warden-king Alistair slew the Archdemon_. _I_..._I killed a hundred or so of its minions, at most, saved a few lives, watched many more perish_.

"Okay, okay..." Varric raised his hands in surrender. "You don't like talking about yourself much, sorry, was just trying to get to know you."

"And you will, in time, I'm sure." Blackwall shrugged, then tilted his head to the side. "Sorry, it's been a while since I was around...people. Socially, I mean."

"Fair enough, we can't _all_ be suave like myself and Chuckles here." Varric shot a thumb at the unamused-looking elf. "So...nice chest-hair?" Blackwall, having half-way taken a sip from his cup of water, nearly spurted it out as he stared at the dwarf eyeing his chest._ Maker, please don't tell me you're about to_... "I mean, it's not as amazing as my own, but one shouldn't compare with the unbeatable." Varric smirked, though thankfully, there lay no other interests in his eyes but to joke.

Blackwall looked down at his chest. By now, the water had mostly dried, though the hair still lay slick against him. His chest was like any veteran's, broad, muscled and scarred, the hair hid some of the more severe marks though, even though more and more of the dark strands had by now turned to silver grey. The dwarf was right though, it was nothing compared to the mane Varric himself sported, enough to make a lion jealous. Chuckling, Blackwall looked back up and shrugged. "Well at least I make up for that with this magnificent beard." 

"True, true...and that shield, and mace wielded so well..." Varric smirked as he looked away. "Shave a few inches off you and you'd make a proper dwarf."

Blackwall laughed.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the starsprinkles._


	11. Chapter 11

Anna felt like she was leading a mix of a celebration and a pilgrimage as she rode up the rocky path that lead to Haven.

And why not? The Hinterlands were safe once more, or as safe as they could be made at the moment. The Templars and Apostates had been either killed or driven off. The rifts that had appeared across Thedas were, for the moment at least, largely gone from the Hinterlands. The Inquisition camps and watchtowers now dotted the landscape, closely working together with villages under repair and helping returning farmers and woodsmen get back to their jobs.

Lives had been saved, demons had been vanquished and murderers been given their comeuppance. All at the behest of the Inquisition.

Of course, it hadn't been a perfect victory. Scouts had been lost and all too many civilians had died, one was one too many, after all. They hadn't been able to access Redcliffe to contact the rebel mages there for any preliminary talks about aid with the Breach either. The arl had kept the town gates closed and refused entry from the foreign power until he could discuss things with Queen Anora. Despite her own nobility, Anna had gotten nowhere with Teagan as the man had made it plainly clear he would not open negotiations, or allow negotiation with those in his charge, to proceed without the Queen's permission.

Still, Anna wasn't about to have that small issue blacken a glorious day. She had found the Warden, she had found Mother Giselle, she had lead the liberation of the Hinterlands, she had secured the Inquisition a source of food and supplies, as well as a grand number of new recruits. _She_, young Anna, had sealed rift upon rift with but a wave of her hand, banishing demons to the nether where they belonged. She had felt then, _truly_, like the Herald of Andraste.

_Now her hand is raised. A sword to pierce the sun. With iron shield she defends the faithful. Let chaos be undone_.

All in all, it had been a good campaign, one _she_ had lead, more or less.

_Better not tell Cassandra I think so though_...

Anna didn't turn in the saddle to look at the woman, she was too busy sitting tall in the saddle and looking ahead, the sun on her face and the wind in her hair as she breathed in the cool mountain air. She was too busy_ feeling great_.

Behind her, the group following was far larger than the one that had left.

Horses given by horse-master Dennet, a high-ranking commoner who'd appreciated the help given to those in the Hinterlands so much he'd offered all his horses and his own assistance, were following along in great numbers. Numerous were pulling carts borrowed from farmers and loaded with furs, leather, salted meat and enough grain to feed a city for a month. Others were ridden by those few who knew how to. Among all those horses and carts, people walked. Men and women numbering more than a hundred, with the promise of more to come as word spread of the Inquisition's deeds. They were poor, many clad in rags and some still nursing injuries and eyes darkened by many sleepless nights.

Yet they all walked forward, heads held high, _singing_.

"The pilgrims kept on marching, hurrah, hurrah..."

It was a simple song, a commoner's song, but it lifted the spirit and made Anna feel like she was soaring as she looked over the mountains as they climbed the path up to Haven.

"Not sure when they'd arrive, hurrah, hurrah..."

Riding up next to her, Cassandra's voice was cool. "You did well down there, beyond a few hiccups of judgement." A pause, the woman considering her words carefully. "You remind me of myself when I was younger..."

"But they have faith, hurrah, hurrah..."

"Thank you!" Anna turned, grinning widely at the scarred woman. "The stories of you were most inspirational when I was younger and it's a privilege to hear such words from you. Whatever happens, I can now claim to have fought beside the hero of Val Royeaux." Breathing in deep, Anna looked back at the mass of people smiling back at her, and laughed. "We did great, didn't we?"

"And marched with happy steps, hurrah, hurrah..."

"I...yes." Cassandra grunted, a hint of amusement in her voice. "But that wasn't what I was getting to, as Herald of Andraste you must understand that-"

"Look, _Haven_!" Someone shouted, making Anna whip her head around to look ahead as a cheer rose from the column. The one who'd shouted had good eyes, the settlement was little more than a brown spot in the distance. The news none the less made an excited murmur run through the group as the pace increased without any order having to be given.

Anna, eyes wide despite herself, found herself raising her head even higher to look ahead, noticing a change in the structure ahead. "Look, Cassandra, we haven't been gone long, but look at the place...!" Anna stared, surprised and amazed, at the structure ahead.

Haven had been expanded, clearly more than to hold what it had lost during the Breach, giving room for expansion. The barracks were complete, with more under construction, a few stone structures had even been built, and though small, smoke rose from their chimneys to hint at work being done within them. Marking the edge of the settlement was the real accomplishment.

Banks of frozen earth had been piled up, the holes dug around it forming a dry moat of sorts. In front of the banks, wooden stocks had started to be pushed into the ground. With the thick stocks held in place by so much earth behind them, nothing would smash through that palisade in a hurry, while the banks provided a form of battlement for the defenders. And further out, there were clear designs to build another palisade as sweating lumberjacks rolled down felled trees on sleds from the nearby forests while men and women worked on digging yet another ditch in the frozen ground.

Beyond, within the large fields, men and women of the Inquisition were training in orderly ranks, training slowly ceasing as heads turned to look to the approaching column of people and carts. Among them, Cullen was striding, barking at the first he spotted ceasing in his training. Realising something was amiss, the templar also turned, hand moving up to shade his eyes, then, as he caught sight of the column, his eyes widened.

Anna, warm satisfaction burning throughout her chest, found herself grinning.

As the column rode past the outline of the outer palisade being built, people were gathering around them. Soldiers, servants, farmers, villagers, _all_ were gathering on each side of the column, some staring in silence at the sight of so many people and carts brimming with supplies. Over at the Chantry, Anna could from her vantage point see people coming out from the Chantry. Josephine with eyes wide even as they looked over the column, trying to calculate the amount. Baldwin was smirking, as if he'd known what would have happen before the group even left, being in such a good mood, even _that_ couldn't make Anna frown.

Gently, the column slowed down before coming to a full stop in front of an archery range. Cullen, standing before the column, had his hands on his hips as he shook his head, apparently lost for words. Anna, dismounting, was all grins as she marched up to him and gestured for her column. "Commander, I have some new recruits and supplies for you, as requested."

The man blinked, then shook his head, a hint of a smile in his eyes as he nodded. "Very well, thank you...Herald." The words seemed to break whatever spell had befallen the town and a cheer spread across the onlookers as those within the column were welcomed with hugs and handshakes, while those officers with straighter priorities began doling out orders to have the carts unloaded.

Then, people were all over Anna, touching, bowing, praising...and she found her eyes widen at the numbers as people flocked to her like moths to the flame. _What in the world_...? Anna had thought their initial worship when she emerged after stabilizing the breach would have been enough, clearly, she was wrong. "Maker be with you all, I...how can I help?" From grinning to confused, Anna felt a little lost.

Cullen, taking a respectful step back, bowed his head. "Herald, it seems you are preoccupied. Please come to our meeting when you're able, there's plans to make...and we require your input."

Anna, nodding, could do little else as a man with a large gash across his shoulder pressed close, pleading for her to put her hand to the injury.

_Maker, give me strength_..._this isn't what I envisioned_.

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Anna, washed and newly dressed in crimson tunic and trousers, entered the war room of the Inquisition with long strides. She felt good, sure, it had been awkward with all the worshippers massing around her, but not even that could undo the feeling her accomplishment had granted, and the bath had done wonders in refreshing her. She felt confident, _capable_, a far cry from the awkward noble's daughter she'd so often thought herself as.

Within, the others were waiting, chatting amicably, but stopping as they saw her. Giselle with Josephine, Cassandra and Cullen and of course Baldwin standing in a corner, smiling that insufferable smile.

The two first were the ones to meet Anna first though. Josephine and Giselle were both flashing smiles, the former the first to speak up. "Anna, it's a pleasure to see you well. I admit I worried, though I guess I shouldn't have worried, Cassandra was asked to keep you safe." At the back Cassandra snorted, making Cullen chuckle. "And returning as a hero...I cannot tell you how much this will do for the Inquisition's reputation."

"And my personal hero, beyond Blackwall." Giselle added, nodding sagely. "I'm in a debt to you and the Inquisition, one I intend to pay back with interest. Of course, the most I can offer is council, but given what I've heard from our dear Josephine, that might be needed. The Maker truly works in mysterious ways, bringing me here."

"He sure does." Anna agreed, nodding in agreement. "What can you tell me about Rowyn and her plans?"

"Mostly your idea is correct, she intends to unite the Chantry against you in a bid to become Divine." Giselle grimaced. "However, you should _not_ underestimate her conviction, Rowyn is at heart a cynic and I'm sure she truly _does_ see you as a fake and a danger. She would oppose you no matter the situation, I believe." Giselle smiled. "Of course, she's not half as strong as she thinks."

"Oh?" Anna queried, eyebrow arched.

"Indeed. She is one of the few left of the central bureaucracy and command of the Chantry, but she's not a popular one, and the election of Divine is, essentially, a matter of popularity, both within its ranks and with the people." Anna frowned at the assertion. _That's_..._not_ _right_. Giselle chuckled at her expression, but continued. "Not only is a Chancellor the one enacting all those annoying and uncomfortable decisions that affect the Mothers throughout the world, often with extra duties, but Rowyn was a very studious chancellor that took certain liberties with this, giving orders she wasn't supposed to to at times. As such, her popularity isn't great among any of those still living among us."

"So...she's powerless?" Cullen raised his voice, surprise colouring his voice. 

"Not quite." Giselle shook her head. "These mothers are all over Thedas, not knowing much of one another or what to do. If Rowyn can present herself as the only option and give them someone to hate more than her..." The woman nodded at Anna. "...while at the same time offering conciliation with those she's offended, she might just manage it." The Mother shrugged. "That depends on us doing nothing though. If Anna here is seen acting on behalf of the people, like she did in the Hinterlands, Rowyn's words will be hollow indeed."

Anna raised her head. "I'm not about to do good deeds to prove Rowyn wrong morally. By Andraste's creed, I'm _obligated_ to do so." She smiled. "That'll just be a pleasant side-effect."

Giselle chuckled at that. "Indeed, and while I'm not all that popular either among the general clergy, my word _is_ trusted...if I write to them of what you've done, they'll believe me."

"Well..." Anna smiled, the memory of the Hinterlands fresh in her memory. "...I'll gladly throw myself into the fray then."

"Maker, preserve me..." Cassandra muttered, giving Anna tired look. "Herald, you're too important to risk like that."

"Isn't that what you're for?" Cullen asked, a hint of teasing in his tone as he eyed Cassandra, making her sigh in frustration as she shot him a glare. "Sorry? Too soon?" Before Anna could ask what they were referring to, the man turned his gaze to her, tone once more serious. "For now, I think we should focus on training these new recruits and stabilising the Hinterlands further. I've already sent orders to relieve Harding's scouts with a detachment so she can go out and patrol other areas of interest. So if you don't mind, maybe there could be a slight lull in heroics until we've figured out where to go next?"

Anna nodded, though reluctantly. She'd gotten a taste for doing great deeds, the adrenaline was still lingering in her veins, the idea of the noble warrior doing the Maker's will in her head urging her on, Andraste's own blessing speaking against such things as rest and quiet._ That was not Andraste's way_. Still, Cullen's words were sensible, after all, she couldn't well throw herself out into the world in the hope to do good when she didn't know where to go. "As you say, then." Grudgingly, she turned to Baldwin. "And you? I suppose you've...'spoken' to Blackwall now? I hope you did so in a proper manner, he's a guest and ally, not a prisoner."

"Oh I had quite a pleasant conversation with him while you were with your worshippers, my lady." Baldwin smiled and bowed, making Anna grimace, finding his whole manner insincere. Justifiable so, given his profession. "Sadly, nothing new was discovered. He knows not why the Wardens in the north are hiding in their fortress, nor while those in the south have vanished."

Anna's lips curled into something resembling a smile as she regarded the man with distaste. "So that's it? Bringing him here was a waste of time?"

The man blinked in surprise even as his smile remained. "Not at all, Herald, not at all! The man has offered his help, and Blackwall is a _famously_ skilled Grey Warden, a real warrior, something we can use. Not only that, but this man gives the _appearance_ of us having the support of the Wardens in total, an honoured organisation to say the least. Plus, he carries the classical documents of the Wardens, allowing conscriptions of people and material when in need. We might be able to use those, if we do so sparingly...I thought our lovely ambassador could handle that though?" Baldwin shot Josephine a glance.

Who curtsied with a smile. "It'll be a pleasure, I'm sure I can reason with this Warden and make some sort of arrangement." Her smile turned into a smirk. "And then milk those treaties for all they're worth."

"Remind me never to play cards with you, you have a ruthless streak there, Miss Ambassador." Cullen grunted, making Cassandra chuckle.

8

8

8

Giselle wasn't as young as she once was, and the trials back in the Hinterlands had taken more energy out of her than she'd cared to admit. As such, it was late by the time she went to a corner of the Chantry not conquered by the growing administration of the Inquisition, hoping to pray in silence for those they'd lost.

Instead she found the corner she'd eyed already conquered. Anna was on both knees in the dark alcove, hands clasped together before a small golden statue of Andraste._ At this hour_?_ After fighting so much_? _A true believer_. Giselle was surprised, she'd been a Mother long enough to know the conviction of many believers wasn't as great as they claimed. Some paid but lip-service, others only believed when they felt it needed to, out of fear or when they wanted to justify their own actions. Some out of being too stupid to even question what they were taught since childbirth. _True_ believers...they were rare indeed, but despite having seen so little of Anna so far, Giselle had a feeling the woman was such a person.

The cynical part of her couldn't help but appreciate how well that would play into her hands into handling the bitch of the cloth Rowyn. Giselle had never much liked the woman, and it would be a pleasure to knock her off her little peg.

For a moment, Giselle pondered leaving, but she pushed the thought aside, she was too curious, the stories she'd heard too recent.

Softly stepping forward, she kept her voice low. "Praying for those we've lost, Herald?"

Anna didn't answer at first, her stance unchanged as she kept muttering a prayer under her breath. Then, bowing her head first at the statue, she turned a smile to Giselle. "I've already done so, but thank you, Mother."

Moving closer, Giselle let her knees rest by sitting down on a nearby bench. "So what _are_ you praying for?"

Anna opened her mouth to answer, then hesitated and looked back to the statue before her. Bowing her head, she sighed, hands still clasped in front of her. "Humility."

Giselle blinked, she had _not_ expected that. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Did you not see how it was outside when we returned?" Anna shook her head, biting her bottom lip for a moment. "They're worshipping me, Mother, _me_! I...none should be worshipped like that, none but Andraste and the Maker."

"Many no doubt see you as a figure of worship, given the tales of you having been chosen by Andraste herself..." Giselle muttered, inching closer, she herself not quite sure about them. As a Mother, she'd met all too many a farmer with some 'wonder' or 'vision' to accept whatever she heard. "You disagree with them?"

"_Chosen_ by Andraste is _not_ Andraste." Anna frowned and shook her head. "How could I compare to the bride of the Maker? Worshipping me is to worship a false idol. _They shall cry out to their false gods. And find silence_." The woman shook her head. "I...don't want to lead people into a false worship."

Giselle smiled and moved to kneel beside the woman. "You know your chants well. So then lead them to the _right_ path, tell them of Andraste and the Maker. What you accomplish you not _only_ do in their honour, but _because_ of their blessing." Giselle paused, noticing Anna's tiny frown. "Is that not so?"

"Yes, yes it is." Anna instantly answered, then hesitated. "But I'm not a priestess, I'm not a templar, I'm a noble, I'm...I'm _supposed_ to excel and show valour and skill. If all that is a gift of the Maker, I'm but an empty vessel of his. How can I be the will of Andraste...and still me?"

Giselle smiled, it was not often she'd been pushed into a theological debate, given her spending most of her time caring for the common people, but it was still a topic she was versed in. "The Maker's greatest gift to his second child was free will and want. All you accomplish _is_ by your own hand, but it would not be so if he'd not allowed it. And after the Breach, all you accomplish is thanks to Andraste saving you, but it still is _your_ accomplishment. Give prayers and thanks to them for your life, for the opportunities and abilities they have granted you, and accept responsibility for what you do with what you've been given."

"I...yes." Anna took a deep breath, the young girl nodding at Giselle's words. "But..." She hesitated, then let her shoulders slump. "...part of me _likes_ it."

"Excuse me?"

"It's awkward to be the target of it, but Maker, I'm adored, I'm a _hero_, I'm...chosen, special and I _feel_ it! Every time I flex my hand, I feel Andraste's touch coursing through me. When I sealed the rifts I felt _suffused_ with her power, when I charged into combat I felt exhilarated and _invulnerable_! Andraste _chose_ me, how could I fail!?" The words bubbled out of Anna's mouth like a flood, afterwards, her cheeks turned a shade red as she looked away, her voice muted. "Only afterwards, now, in prayer, I feel how conceited it sounds." Her gaze turned back to Andraste's statue, eyes thoughtful. "So I pray for humility."

Giselle arched an eyebrow. "And do you find it?"

"While I pray..." Anna shot Giselle a look, the corner of her lip arched. "...later, when my blood's up, who knows?"

The two shared a chuckle at that, Giselle noticing how the action made the young woman's shoulders slump a bit. _Too much burden on too young shoulders_... "Then I'll pray for you to stay humble as well, and for what it's worth, I think you'll find your balance, just give it time."

"Thank you, Mother." Anna went up to one knee, ready to leave.

Giselle couldn't help but speak up. "And if that doesn't happen...well I'm sure someone will beat some into you. I hear a line is forming, if I understand the political situation right."

"That's good to hear." Anna chuckled, rising to her feet. She was a tall and strong woman, making her earlier confession of vulnerability seem a distant memory as she looked down at Giselle. She truly had a spark of divine might about her at that moment, resembling some of the earlier statues of Andraste all too much, the statues of the warrior and leader as well as religious figurehead. It reminded Giselle of when the woman had entered the chantry, alight with a halo cast by the sun on her back... "Thank you, Mother."

Suddenly finding her mouth dry, as if feeling a greater presence looking down on them, Giselle could do nothing but bow her head in acknowledgement.

Only when Anna had walked away did Giselle raise her head, her eyes looking up at the ceiling of the Chantry, then back to the statue of Andraste so serenely looking at her. "Is this...real?"

For a second, Giselle felt young and innocent once more.

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for being the Se to my trus._


End file.
